DQWNRENTER'S 
SON 


RUTH   HALL 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 
press,  <£ambriD0e 
1902 


COPYRIGHT,    1902,    BY   RUTH    HALL 
ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 


Published  September,  iqoz. 


SDrtiicatton 

IN   SENDING   FORTH   THIS   BOOK   I   RECALL   EACH   FRIEND 
WHO  BY  REMINISCENCE  OR  BY  SPECIAL  KNOWLEDGE 

HAS    HELPED   ME   TO   WRITE   IT. 

AND  AMONG  THOSE  FRIENDS,  HERE,  AS  ALWAYS,  FIRST 
I  NAME 

MY  MOTHER 


2136168 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  SHIBBOLETH 1 

II.  ALONG  THE  ROAD  TO  SCHOOL       ...  12 

III.  THB  DINNER  HORN 22 

IV.  VISITORS 32 

V.   GENERAL  TRAINING 43 

VI.   OLD  JACOB  AT  HOME     .        .        .        .        .  54 

VII.   THE  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS    ....  65 

VIII.  A  KETTLE  OP  TAR         ......  76 

IX.  AT  THE  SAMP-MILL    .        .     It)       ...  86 

X.  CRAZY  DAN     ...*...  97 

XL   "THE  LORD  is  IN  HIS  HOLY  TEMPLE"  .        .  107 

XII.  THE  CRIPPLE  BUSH 117 

XIII.  THE  ELOQUENCE  OP  DEMOSTHENES          .        .  128 

XIV.  "OUT  OF  THE  WAY" 137 

XV.  FATHER  AND  SON 146 

XVI.  SQUIRE  MAYHAM 155 

XVII.  FAIR  WARNING  .        .        .        .        .        .        .166 

XVIII.   HAGER'S  SALE 175 

XIX.   BREAKING  THE  LAW          .        .                .        .  185 

XX.  OLD  JACOB'S  MATCH 195 

XXI.  SON  AND  FATHER 204 

XXII.     ONE    SHALL   BE    TAKEN 214 

XXIII.  GlTTY    SPEAKS    HER   MlND 222 

XXIV.  OLD  JACOB'S  PLEA 231 

XXV.  AT  Mix's 241 

XXVI.   THE  LADY  OF  THE  AIR  CASTLE   .        .        .  251 

XXVII.   ON  THE  WAY  HOME 261 

XXVIII.  AT  THE  WINDOW 272 

XXIX.   THE  DONATION  PARTY 283 

XXX.  THE  MAN  WITHOUT  A  COUNTRY   .                .  294 


A  DOWNKENTER'S  SON 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   SHIBBOLETH 

There  is  nothing  equal  to  the  smallness  of  a  small  town. 

ALFRED  TENNYSOK. 

DR.  COLTON  stood  on  the  threshold  of  the  dis 
orderly  kitchen,  peering  about  him  in  his  near 
sighted  fashion :  "  I  thought  Henry  was  here." 

"  He 's  cording  the  spare-room  bedstead.  " 

"  Then  where  is  Allie  ?  " 

"  I  sent  him  after  the  carpenter,  father." 

"  Oh !  Would  you  like  to  go  with  me,  Phe  ?  I 
am  just  starting  out  on  my  calls." 

His  daughter  glanced  at  her  mother  over  the 
stiff  billows  of  the  carpet  she  was  sewing  together. 
Next  she  looked  toward  the  tall,  angular  figure  of 
their  Yankee  help.  Jemima  was  fast  setting  this 
one  room  in  order.  Mrs.  Colton  was  unpacking 
the  contents  of  the  kitchen  closet.  Three  pairs  of 
hands  were  more  than  needed  on  this  day  of  their 
moving  into  a  new  home.  It  was  inconsiderate  of 
her  father  to  demand  her  services  elsewhere.  But 
consideration  is  the  last  grace  given  to  the  best  of 


2  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

men.  The  Colton  family  was  accustomed  to  such 
requests. 

"  Oh,  yes.     Go,  Phe,"  said  her  mother. 

"  Go  on,"  echoed  Jemima  Lane.  "  I  '11  finish 
them  seams  an'  put  the  carpet  down  soon  as  I  git 
through  with  this." 

Her  strong  arms  made  a  passage  by  which  the 
girl  could  emerge  from  among  the  unwieldy  mounds. 
"  Don't  let  mother  overwork  while  I  am  gone," 
Phoebe  whispered  entreatingly  in  this  opportunity. 

Jemima  was  the  product  of  a  day  when  her  na 
tive  New  England  was  given  over  to  philosophy. 
"  We  can't  do  nobuddy  else's  work  in  this  world," 
she  observed  generally.  "  We  'd  be  busy  with  our 
own  if  ye  stayed,  an'  we  '11  be  busy  with  our  own 
while  ye  're  gone.  They  's  enough  left  for  ye  to 
see  to  when  ye  come  back.  Don't  fret." 

With  such  solace  to  her  conscience  Phe  was  free 
to  enjoy  her  escape  from  confusion  and  uncon 
genial  tasks  to  the  bliss  that  comes  near  perfection 
—  a  country  drive  in  early  spring.  Before  the 
wide  barn  door  stood  a  chaise.  She  climbed  to  a 
seat,  as  her  father  led  out  old  Sam  and  harnessed 
him  with  the  ease  of  practice. 

"  I  am  going  to  the  Mixes',"  he  remarked  while 
thus  occupied.  "  We  '11  get  there  probably  about 
dinner-time.  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  you  meet 
their  young  people.  They  '11  be  companions  for 
you." 

Phe  accordingly  looked  forward  to  the  visit 
throughout  their  earlier  calls,  while  they  drove 
along  the  quiet  road,  or  she  held  the  horse  at  the 


THE   SHIBBOLETH  3 

gate  of  one  farmhouse  after  another.  She  enjoyed 
it  all :  the  fresh  green  beauty  of  her  surroundings, 
their  gentle  progress,  the  sense  of  protection  which 
was  sweet  when  with  her  father. 

Dr.  Colton  had  preceded  by  a  few  weeks  his 
family's  arrival  at  Farley,  and  experienced  that 
curious  pride  one  knows  in  acting  as  a  guide.  He 
pointed  out  the  tollkeeper's  little  house  at  one  end 
of  the  covered  bridge,  where  old  Sam's  hoofs 
roused  a  hollow  echo  and  the  sunlight  fell  in  a 
latticed  pattern  through  the  outwork  on  the  weather- 
beaten  sides.  He  showed  Phe  a  far-away  glimpse 
of  the  red  and  yellow  rocking  coach  with  its  mail- 
bags  and  load  of  passengers.  He  dilated  upon  the 
view  from  Baldwin  Heights  and  the  Cripple  Bush, 
where  they  were  making  sugar  when  he  first  came 
in  March.  At  last  he  drew  rein  before  a  substan 
tial  large  brick  house  whose  eaves  projected  over  a 
stone  basement.  It  was  set  back  from  the  road  in 
the  midst  of  a  wide  yard  in  which  the  new  grass 
was  coming  up  around  the  syringa  bushes. 

"And  this  is  the  Mixes',"  said  he,  smiling.  "  Look 
about  you." 

"Why,  father?" 

"  No  matter  now,"  as  a  door  opened  in  the  ves 
tibule.  "  Just  keep  your  eyes  open.  That 's  all." 

A  girl  came  into  sight  in  the  hard-beaten  path 
winding  through  the  grass  around  the  house.  She 
seemed  about  Phe's  age,  which  was  sixteen  years, 
and  was  dressed  in  a  calico  gown,  with  nankeen 
pantalettes  and  a  slat  bonnet.  From  the  depths 
of  this  headgear  she  gazed  out  in  a  friendly  fashion 
upon  the  visitors. 


4  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  doctor,"  she  called.  "  Gran'- 
ma  's  been  watching  for  you  ever  since  breakfast. 
She  said,  seems  if  you  'd  never  come." 

The  good  physician  was  not  disturbed  by  this 
impatience,  which  he  knew  to  be  the  outgrowth  of 
loneliness  rather  than  ill-health.  In  the  solitude 
of  farm  life  a  guest's  welcome  was  assured,  and 
"  the  more  the  merrier  "  a  fact.  Dr.  Col  ton  never 
had  deemed  it  a  favor  to  himself  if  he  stopped  on 
his  rounds  for  a  meal,  nor  did  he  hesitate  to  bring 
with  him  any  member  of  his  family. 

"  This  is  my  daughter,"  he  announced,  stepping 
from  the  chaise,  "  and  this,  Phrebe,  is  Miss  Mary 
Ann  Mix.  I  hope  you  two  will  be  friends.  Phe 
is  to  enter  school  to-morrow,  Miss  Mary  Ann. 
You  will  look  after  her  a  little,  won't  you  ?  " 

His  pleasant  voice  continued,  that  their  young 
hostess  might  have  time  to  recover  her  composure. 
She  nodded  shyly  to  his  query  and  found  scant 
breath  to  mutter,  — 

"  Walk  right  in,  please.  You  're  just  in  time 
for  dinner.  I  '11  help  you  tie  the  horse." 

Phe  followed  the  others  along  the  narrow  foot 
way  to  a  back  door.  She  saw  her  father  march  in 
assuredly,  after  knocking  with  the  head  of  his  whip. 
Mary  Ann  was  at  his  heels  and  she  behind  Mary 
Ann. 

They  entered  a  broad,  low  room  running  the 
width  of  the  house.  At  the  farther  side  was  a 
fireplace  where  an  old  woman  crouched  in  an  arm 
chair.  At  their  approach  she  raised  her  head, 
swathed  in  flannel. 


THE  SHIBBOLETH  5 

"  Glat  to  see  you,  toctor,"  she  said  querulously. 
"  I  t'ought  ye  gome  neffer." 

The  doctor  presented  his  daughter  to  Mrs.  Mix 
before  he  assumed  his  professional  habit.  Draw 
ing  a  chair  beside  his  patient  he  began  a  series  of 
questions  relative  to  her  neuralgia,  and  left  the 
girls  to  their  devices. 

They  were  the  only  other  occupants  of  the  room. 

"  Pa  and  Omar  will  be  in,  in  a  minute,  to  din 
ner,"  Mary  Ann  remarked  as  if  apologizing  for 
their  absence.  "Josephine's  in  the  store  to-day, 
and  Demosthenes  ain't  scarcely  ever  at  home.  He  's 
a  lawyer." 

She  tossed  her  head  in  affected  carelessness  over 
this  information.  Phe  saw  that  Demosthenes  — 
whoever  else  he  might  be  —  was  the  pride  of  the 
family.  She  made  a  noncommittal  answer  in  her 
throat,  sitting  on  the  wooden  chair  Mary  Ann  had 
indicated  by  an  outstretched  finger,  and  smiling  up 
at  the  other  girl  stepping  briskly  about  the  room. 
Meanwhile,  as  her  father  had  counseled,  she  kept 
her  eyes  wide  open. 

There  seemed  an  invisible  line  dividing  this 
kitchen  through  the  centre.  On  one  side,  the  floor 
was  covered  by  a  well-preserved  rag  carpet ;  on  the 
other  was  the  bare  pine  wood,  painted  yellow  and 
shining  like  a  mirror.  There  was  the  yawning  fire 
place,  with  a  Dutch  oven  and  a  kettle  swinging 
over  the  wood  coals.  Here  was  a  glistening  stove, 
holding  the  frying-pan  of  sizzling  pork.  Mrs. 
Mix  punctuated  her  complaints  to  the  doctor  by 
dropping  her  snuff-box  and  jumping  up  to  stir  the 


6  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

samp  bubbling  in  its  huge  pot.  Mary  Ann  set 
back  the  teakettle  and  began  to  dish  a  pile  of 
potatoes  bursting  from  their  jackets.  Were  there 
two  meals  in  preparation?  Phe  stared  in  per 
plexity  from  one  fire  to  the  other.  Their  heat 
was  almost  unendurable  on  so  mild  a  day.  She 
was  thankful  that  she  sat  near  an  open  door,  and 
her  father  was  urging  Mrs.  Mix  to  get  out  of  the 
house  into  the  sunshine  and  fresher  air. 

"  It  is  what  you  need,"  he  said.  "  Medicine 
does  no  good  while  you  shut  yourself  up  like 
this." 

"You  can't  move  gran'ma,"  commented  Mary 
Ann. 

It  was  evident  that  this  remark  was  not  to  be 
taken  literally,  for  with  the  doctor's  aid  she  now 
proceeded  to  conduct  Mrs.  Mix  to  the  dinner- 
table.  After  this,  with  a  glance  at  the  sun-mark, 
she  ran  out  onto  the  porch,  and  raising  two  fingers 
to  her  lips,  breathed  a  shrill,  whistling  call. 

"  Sha'n't  I  blow  the  horn  for  you,  Miss  Mary 
Ann  ?  "  asked  Dr.  Colton. 

He  laid  a  hand  on  it  where  it  hung  behind  the 
door,  but  the  girl  and  her  grandmother  gave  a 
simultaneous  startled  cry.  "  Oh,  no,"  Mary  Ann 
explained  hurriedly.  "  Nobody  would  expect  it. 
They  would  n't  understand.  Pa  '11  be  here  in  a 
minute.  He  heard  me  all  right." 

"  See  to  my  gorn-breat,  shilt,"  Mrs.  Mix  admon 
ished  her  in  a  palpable  interruption. 

Their  visitors  felt  uncomfortable  at  this  en 
counter  with  a  secret.  The  doctor  strolled  to  the 


THE   SHIBBOLETH  7 

door,  his  daughter  busied  herself  setting  the  pork 
and  potatoes  on  the  table,  while  Mary  Ann  crossed 
to  the  open  fire  and  removing  a  bed  of  coals  from 
the  iron  bake  kettle,  took  out  a  plump  loaf  yellow 
with  Indian  meal.  She  filled  a  wooden  bowl  with 
samp  and  brought  both  to  her  grandmother,  laying 
at  the  same  time  a  lump  of  loaf  sugar  by  Mrs. 
Mix's  plate,  although  on  her  own  tray  of  tea-things 
stood  a  sugar-bowl. 

A  gray-haired  farmer,  with  his  raw-boned,  bash 
ful  son,  now  stamped  across  the  porch.  They 
acknowledged  the  doctor's  introduction  with  un 
easy  good  will,  and  the  meal  that  followed  was 
silent  save  as  the  guest  made  conversation,  shyly 
seconded  by  Mary  Ann,  or  by  her  father,  who 
appeared  to  have  rather  more  acquaintance  with 
the  world  than  the  boy  known  as  Omar.  Mrs. 
Mix  ate  the  food  she  had  prepared,  disdaining  her 
granddaughter's  cooking  except  for  a  bowl  of  tea, 
which  she  sweetened  by  biting  at  the  lump  of 
sugar  provided  for  her  arid  all  too  obviously  hold 
ing  it  in  her  mouth  while  she  took  a  gulp  of  the 
hot  drink. 

Phe  was  accustomed  to  the  fine  simplicity,  the 
economies,  and  the  culture  of  poor  gentlefolk. 
The  rude  profusion,  the  coarse  manners  of  this 
household,  offended  that  youthful  intolerance  that 
ranks  certain  blunders  in  etiquette  as  a  sin.  Yet 
she  was  drawn  to  Mary  Ann  by  the  sympathy  of 
their  age  and  sex.  She  was  pleased  to  have  her 
father  announce  as  they  rose  from  the  table  that 
he  must  visit  a  patient  in  a  neighboring  township 


8  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

whither  Omar,  it  seemed,  had  an  errand.  The 
doctor  could  carry  the  young  man  with  him  in  his 
chaise  if  Phe  chose  to  spend  the  afternoon  here, 
where  he  might  stop  for  her  on  his  return. 

Both  girls  eagerly  assented  to  the  plan.  They 
performed  together  the  office  known  as  doing  the 
dinner  dishes.  Then  leaving  Mrs.  Mix  dozing 
over  her  fire,  Mary  Ann  with  an  important  air  led 
the  way  from  the  kitchen.  "  Let 's  go  in  the  parlor 
a  while,"  said  she.  "  We  can  see  the  passing 
from  there.  It 's  pleasanter." 

Their  path  lay  through  a  dining-room  sombre  in 
dull  blue  paint,  its  black  chairs  set  against  the 
wall  except  for  a  Boston  rocker  drawn  up  by  the 
Franklin  stove.  A  rag  carpet  covered  the  floor. 
Everything  was  in  perfect  order. 

"  We  eat  in  the  kitchen  and  we  set  there 
mostly,"  Mary  Ann  explained.  "  Gran'ma,  you 
know,  she  's  kind  of  stubborn.  She  likes  her  own 
way,  the  way  she  's  used  to.  So  we  humor  her." 

"  I  think  it 's  beautiful  of  you,"  said  Phe 
heartily. 

"  Oh,  that 's  all  right."  Mary  Ann  threw  open 
a  door.  "This,"  she  exclaimed  with  a  thrill  in 
her  voice,  "  is  the  best  room." 

The  prim  bareness  inclosed  by  those  four  walls 
represented  to  the  Mix  family  the  farthest  heights 
of  splendor.  Green  paper  shades  tempered  the 
light  from  the  windows.  On  the  green  and  red 
ingrain  carpet  were  precisely  placed  a  few  oak 
«hairs,  reed-seated.  At  either  end  of  the  mantel 
piece  stood  brass  candlesticks,  with  a  tray  and 


THE   SHIBBOLETH  9 

snuffers  midway  between  them.  Several  gayly 
colored  pictures  on  the  wall  lent  a  dash  of  bril 
liancy  to  the  gray  paint.  Mary  Ann  led  her  new 
friend  from  one  to  another  of  these,  explaining  the 
subjects. 

"  This  is  Innocence,"  she  remarked,  "  and  this 
is  A  Southern  Beauty." 

Phe  had  the  taste  acquired  in  a  lifelong  posses 
sion  of  those  old  prints  and  family  portraits,  the 
Chippendale  chairs  and  spindle-legged  tables,  that 
Jemima  and  Mrs.  Colton  were  at  that  instant 
engaged  in  unpacking.  But  she  had  as  well  the 
tact  usually  accompanying  the  taste.  She  said 
some  honest  kindly  sentences  over  Mary  Ann's 
household  gods  and  thus  increased  the  charm  of 
her  face  and  her  manner. 

"  I  wish  Demosthenes  would  happen  in,"  ob 
served  Mary  Ann.  "  He  'd  like  you." 

"  Where  is  Demosthenes  ?  "  Phe  queried,  roused 
to  curiosity. 

"  Oh,  he 's  in  Farley.  He 's  a  lawyer.  He 
can't  board  home.  It 's  too  far.  He  practices 
law  in  Farley.  Josephine  's  there  too.  She  's  my 
sister.  She  tends  store  when  pa's  busy  on  the 
farm.  You  know  pa  keeps  a  store." 

"  Why  no,  I  didn't  know  that." 

"  Did  n't  you  ?  "  Mary  Ann  opened  her  eyes  in 
surprise.  "  Oh,  but  then  you  've  just  come.  If 
you  'd  lived  here  any  time  you  could  n't  help  hear 
ing  about  it.  They  say,"  with  the  same  toss  of 
her  head  as  when  she  spoke  of  her  brother's  pro 
fession,  "  what  you  can't  get  at  Mix's  you  can't 


10  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

get  anywheres.  That 's  a  sort  of  saying  around 
here.  Mix's  is  pa's  store." 

Phe  was  utterly  unassuming,  and  content  to 
listen  to  the  other's  boasts.  They  therefore  parted 
Btill  the  best  of  friends,  after  some  hours  together, 
when  the  doctor  stopped  at  dusk  for  his  daughter. 

The  spring  twilight  was  sprinkled  with  stars  as 
they  drove  happily  home.  The  girl  chattered  of 
her  day's  experience,  and  her  father  in  his  gen 
tle,  even  tones  commented  on  its  happenings.  It 
was  an  index  of  her  breeding  that  Phe  should 
in  no  way  allude  to  the  episode  of  the  dinner 
horn. 

"  And  Mary  Ann  is  just  as  good  to  her  grand 
mother  ! "  said  she. 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  you  see  one  of  those  house 
holds,"  the  doctor  remarked,  "  where  the  old 
Dutch  ways  and  the  newer  American  life  touch 
but  will  not  intermingle.  They  are  a  curious 
study  and  they  yearly  of  course  grow  rarer.  Some 
day  you  will  remember  "  — 

"  Father,  what  is  that  ?  " 

The  girl's  tense  fingers  grasped  his  arm.  The 
soft  voice  died  away.  Sam  reared  and  stopped. 
The  little  party  —  man  and  woman  and  beast  — 
were  alike  for  an  instant  startled  into  fear. 

They  had  been  passing  the  schoolhouse  of  the 
district,  where  a  streak  of  light  at  door  and  shut 
tered  window  betrayed  occupation.  Phe  spoke 
as  the  door  was  flung  open.  The  glowing  line 
changed  to  a  broad  glare.  Against  this  back 
ground  there  appeared  a  figure  so  strange  and 


THE   SHIBBOLETH  11 

horrid  that  it  might  well  call  forth  a  frightened 
cry. 

A  tall  man  strode  down  the  steps.  His  face  was 
concealed  by  a  sheepskin  cap,  his  eyes  and  nose, 
ears  and  mouth,  showing  grotesquely  through  long 
slashes.  He  wore  a  calico  blouse  over  his  ordi 
nary  clothes.  It  reached  below  the  knees  and  was 
tied  about  the  waist  with  a  bright-colored  sash.  In 
one  hand  he  carried  a  rifle. 

Dr.  Colton  struck  his  horse  with  the  reins.  He 
called  in  a  high,  strained  voice,  "  Get  up,  Sam." 

The  man  sprang  to  the  carriage-side.  Before 
they  could  evade  him  he  had  seized  the  bridle. 
He  raised  his  frightful  mask  to  meet  the  doctor's 
eyes. 

"  Down  with  the  rent,"  he  cried. 


CHAPTER  II 

ALONG  THE   ROAD  TO    SCHOOL 
A  most  f owle  unhandsome  thing  as  ever  was  heard.  —  PEPYB. 

DR.  COLTON  gave  a  little  laugh  as  if  of  relief, 
yet  Phe  fancied  there  was  vexation  too  in  his  man 
ner.  He  leaned  forward,  gathering  up  the  reins. 

"  Down  with  the  rent,"  he  said. 

The  man  fell  back  at  once.  His  hands  dropped 
from  the  headstall  and  he  turned  on  his  heel. 
Waving  a  friendly  salute  to  the  travelers  he  ran 
up  the  steps  and  disappeared  into  the  schoolhouse. 
The  door  shut  behind  him,  but  not  before  it  could 
be  seen  that  the  room  was  full  of  other  figures  in  a 
like  disguise. 

The  doctor  drove  on. 

"Father,"  Phe  began  in  a  trembling  voice, 
"  what  does  it  all  mean?  I  don't  understand." 

"  Neither  do  I,"  with  a  scornful  chuckle.  "  The 
thing 's  a  tangle,  child.  The  rights  of  it,  as  I  see 
them  —  get  up,  Sam  —  the  rights  of  it  are  simply 
this.  The  country  hereabouts  belongs  to  the  Van 
Rensselaers,  part  of  the  grant  to  the  first  patroon. 
The  tenants,  and  those  on  other  patents,  question 
the  landlords'  title  to  the  land  and  prefer  their 
own  claims,  founded  on  generations  of  occupancy. 


ALONG  THE  ROAD  TO  SCHOOL     13 

There  is  the  situation  in  a  nutshell,  No  one  can 
foretell,"  the  doctor's  tone  grew  troubled,  "how 
far  it  may  go.  I  fear  there  is  worse  mischief  afoot 
than  frightening  off  a  landlord's  agent,  or  stopping 
a  passer-by  where  they  are  holding  an  indignation 
meeting." 

"  Do  you  side  with  the  tenants  ?  " 

"  Why,  no !  It 's  the  patroon's  land.  No  farmer 
has  a  stronger  hold  to  his  farm  than  I  on  mine, 
simply  because  his  family  may  liave  paid  rent  for 
two  hundred  years  and  I  but  for  two  months." 

Phe  was  silent. 

"However,  it  does  no  good,"  her  father  con 
tinued,  "  to  argue  with  the  fellows.  They  are  be 
yond  conviction.  Neither  can  I  fight  them.  I 
must  look  after  my  interests  and  those  of  my  fam 
ily  and  echo  their  war-cry  on  demand." 

Still  the  girl  said  nothing. 

"You  young  folks  are  so  downright,"  the  doctor 
added  presently.  "  You  think  there  is  no  middle 
course.  All  must  be  blackest  bad,  or  whitest  good. 
We  learn  as  we  go  on  in  life  the  plain  common 
sense  of  minding  one's  own  affairs." 

The  time  was  by  fifty  years  removed  from  the 
day  when  parents  should  be  brought  to  trial  with 
the  swift,  stern  sentence  of  their  children's  judg 
ment.  Phe  uttered  a  demurring  cry  at  the  notion 
of  appealing  from  her  father's  opinions. 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  that.  It  could  not  be.  I  was 
only  thinking  of  the  outcome  if  these  men  should 
not  be  checked." 

"  I  confess  I  cannot  guess  it.    Anti-rent  associa- 


14  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

tions  disclaim  any  intention  of  violence.  Yet  an 
Uprenter  was  killed  last  year  in  Rensselaer  County, 
and  although  two  hundred  witnesses  were  exam 
ined,  the  murderer  was  never  discovered.  Six 
years  ago  (the  dissatisfaction  has  been  brewing  so 
long)  Governor  Seward  was  obliged  to  send  out 
the  sheriff  of  Albany  County  to  collect  rents,  pro 
tected  by  a  posse  of  the  military  companies  of  the 
capital.  That  move  cowed  the  Downrenters  tem 
porarily.  They  were  not  dispersed,  and  to  my  fancy 
they  are  ready  for  another  outbreak  now." 

Her  father's  words  were  recalled  to  Phe  by  what 
took  place  as  she  and  her  brother  were  on  their  way, 
the  next  day,  to  school.  They  had  not  proceeded 
far  from  home  before  the  girl  heard  some  one 
shriek  her  name  like  a  shrill,  unmelodious  Phoebe- 
bird.  Mary  Ann  Mix  was  approaching  along  a 
path  through  the  fields,  swinging  her  dinner-pail. 

Phe  presented  her  small  brother,  after  which 
they  resumed  their  walk. 

"  Why,  here 's  Gitty  and  Almiran  !  "  Mary  Ann 
exclaimed  directly.  "  Ain't  they  been  quick  ? 
They  've  come  clear  around  by  the  turnpike." 

Phoebe  regarded  the  new  arrivals,  —  another  girl 
and  boy  some  years  her  seniors.  "  I  don't  know 
them,"  she  said.  "  Will  you  introduce  me?  " 

She  asked  more  than  she  imagined.  Mary  Ann 
had  already  envied  the  grace  with  which  Albert 
was  presented  to  her  notice.  She  had  never  per 
formed  this  ceremony.  In  their  own  phrase,  the 
young  people  of  Farley  "  scraped  acquaintance." 
Her  round  cheeks  flamed.  Her  breath  came  fast. 


ALONG  THE  ROAD  TO  SCHOOL      15 

"  Miss  Gitty  Hager,  Miss  Phoebe  Colton,"  she 
muttered  hoarsely  as  a  salutation  to  the  approach 
ing  pair.  "  Mr.  Almiran  Sweet,  Miss  Phosbe  Col- 
ton." 

She  stopped  short.  How  could  she  go  through 
again  with  that  ordeal,  and  for  a  little  fellow  like 
Allie  Colton  ?  Her  tongue  refused  to  move. 

Gitty  Hager,  a  heavy-faced,  big-framed  girl, 
grew  purple  with  embarrassment.  She  shifted  her 
weight  from  one  foot  to  the  other  and  glowered 
sheepishly  at  Phosbe.  Almiran  was  a  good-looking 
youth  whose  large,  handsome  features  shone  with 
perspiration  at  this  novel  experience.  But,  as  often 
happens  on  such  occasions,  he  forced  himself  to 
rise  to  an  emergency  wherein  his  feminine  compan 
ion  remained  desperately  silent. 

"  Pleased  to  meet  you,"  his  deep  voice  growled. 

Phosbe  was  perplexed  by  this  behavior.  Accus 
tomed  to  the  amenities  of  a  gentle  life,  she  bore 
herself  with  that  assurance  which  is  never  success 
fully  assumed. 

"  This  is  my  brother  Albert,  Miss  Hager ;  Mr. 
Sweet,"  she  explained,  with  her  radiant  smile. 
"  Are  we  all  going  to  school  together  ?  " 

."  Guess  so,"  replied  Almiran. 

After  this  second  attempt  at  politeness  he  re 
lapsed  into  taciturnity.  The  awkwardness  would 
have  been  overpowering  were  not  Gitty  Hager  even 
more  excited  than  shy. 

"  Almiran  's  got  something  to  show  us,"  she  re 
marked  aside  to  Mary  Ann,  "  and  he  won't  tell 
what  it  is." 


10  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  Allie  instantly  demanded. 

"  You  '11  see  soon  as  ye  git  to  Jurimy  Loucks's." 

"  Oh,"  cried  Mary  Ann  shrilly,  "  Jurimy 
Loucks's?  I  bet  I  know." 

"  I  bet  you  don't." 

"  What  is  it?  "  Allie  repeated. 

"  I  know." 

"  I  bet  you  don't." 

"  I  guessed  Indians,"  Gitty  interpolated.  "  But 
he  said  no." 

"  Pooh,  Indians !  "  echoed  the  little  boy  in  bra 
vado  courage.  "  There  are  n't  any  Indians  now 
adays." 

To  Phoebe's  mystification  and  to  the  child's 
horror  the  others  exchanged  a  sidelong  glance  of 
amusement. 

"  Ain't  they  ?  "  Almiran  rejoined  with  sarcastic 
emphasis. 

"  The  Indians  are  all  out  West,"  Allie  persisted. 
"  Phoebe,  are  n't  the  Indians  all  out  West  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear." 

Again  she  intercepted  another  sly  look.  It  gave 
her  an  eerie  sense  of  evil. 

"  There  !  "  Allie  triumphed.  "  Did  you  hear 
that  ?  I  guess  my  sister  knows." 

"All  right,"  agreed  Almiran  good-hum oredly. 
"  Of  course  she  knows.  And  Gitty  told  you  it 
wa'  n't  Indians." 

"Then  what  is  it?" 

"  I  know,"  Mary  Ann  insisted. 

"  You  just  say  that,"  the  young  fellow  declared, 
hitting  the  fence  with  his  dinner-pail  as  he  walked, 
"  'cause  you  think  it  '11  make  me  tell  you." 


ALONG  THE  ROAD  TO  SCHOOL      17 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  Allie's  sweet  treble  was  un 
wavering  in  its  refrain. 

"  S.  M.,"  Mary  Ann  announced  with  a  provoking 
smile. 

The  Colton  children  were  still  in  the  dark. 
Gitty  seemed  to  understand.  "  Is  it  S.  M.  ?  "  she 
inquired  of  Almiran. 

His  features  clouded.  He  pouted  his  lips  like  a 
baby.  "  Well,  yes,  if  I  must  say  it,"  he  acknow 
ledged  sulkily.  "  I  don't  see  how  you  come  to 
guess." 

"  I  heard  pa  tell  gran'ma  they  'd  be  there  be 
fore  many  days.  Ain't  it  awful  ?  " 

"  My  father  said  so  too.  He  said  so  only  last 
night,"  Gitty  hastened  to  interpose.  "  He  said  he 
hoped  Jurimy  would  hold  out." 

"  He  's  holding  out,"  Almiran  informed  her. 

"  What  is  S.  M.  ?  "     Allie  changed  his  query. 

Phe  was  walking  by  herself  in  the  path  close  to 
the  rail  fence.  She  felt  set  aside,  an  interloper. 
Her  dignity  was  hurt.  She  considered  these  ac 
quaintances  both  unkind  and  rude.  She  was  an 
noyed  by  her  brother's  curiosity. 

"  What  is  S.  M.  ?  "  he  asked  again. 

And  once  more  there  was  that  intimation  of  a 
common  joke  in  the  youth's  smile  at  the  two  girls. 
"  I  guess  you  '11  find  out  soon  enough,"  Almiran 
assured  him.  "  Folks  around  here  ain't  long  in 
doubt  what  S.  M.  stands  for." 

They  all  laughed. 

"  I  sha'n't  speak,"  Phe  determined  with  a  lump 
in  her  throat.  She  winked  fast  to  keep  back  the 


18  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

tears.  "  They  can  do  all  the  talking  after  this. 
My  mother  would  n't  be  pleased  with  the  sort  of 
friends  I  'm  making.  So  mean !  " 

"  Look  there  !  "  called  Almiran. 

He  was  leading  the  little  party,  who  walked 
single  file  in  the  narrow  way.  Thus  he  shouted 
over  his  shoulder,  pointing  ahead  as  they  turned  a 
corner  in  the  road. 

A  red  farmhouse  stretched  like  an  elongated 
spyglass  back  from  the  highway  close  to  which  the 
front  was  built  as  if  for  companionship.  The 
structure  had  a  comfortable,  prosperous  air.  The 
group  of  barns  was  still  more  pretentious.  It 
appeared  to  be  the  home  of  a  well-to-do  farmer. 

The  narrow  front  yard  was  trampled  beneath 
the  feet  of  a  half-dozen  men,  marshaled  by  a 
red-faced,  angry  official  exulting  in  unassailable 
authority. 

"  Bring  'em  along,"  his  harsh  voice  rang  out. 
"  Bring  'em  right  along.  I  've  talked  with  them 
women-folks  enough." 

"  What  did  I  tell  you  ?  "  quoth  Almiran  to  the 
others. 

Gitty  and  Mary  Ann  clutched  each  other's 
hands.  "  Ain't  it  terrible  ? "  they  cried  in  a 
breath. 

A  horse  and  buggy  stood  before  the  gate.  The 
man  who  was  holding  the  reins  gave  Almiran  a 
sickly  smile. 

"  Putting  Jurimy  out  ? "  asked  the  young 
fellow. 

"Yep." 


ALONG  THE  ROAD  TO  SCHOOL     19 

'"  Nice  bus'ness,  ain't  it  ?  "  Almiran  pursued. 

"  Well,  't  ain't  none  o'  yourn  nor  mine,"  was  the 
retort.  "  Jurimy  had  fair  warning.  He  could  'a' 
been  spared  all  this  if  he  'd  been  a  min'  to." 

"  Yes,"  Gitty  disdainfully  acquiesced.  "  If  he  'd 
been  a  mind  to  give  in  and  own  he  was  wrong  and 
the  agent  was  right.  And  if  he  did  he  would  n't 
live  long  in  Farley.  He  knows  that  too.  Farley 
ain't  any  place  for  Uprenters." 

"  Come  along,"  interrupted  Mary  Ann  with  a 
shake  of  her  skirts.  "  Don't  let 's  talk  to  anybody 
that  '11  put  a  sick  man  out  of  his  house  and  home." 

They  flaunted  past  the  wagon,  pushing  on  up  to 
the  gate.  Gitty's  last  words  had  given  Phe  a  clue 
to  the  situation.  She  spoke  to  the  constable,  Allie, 
his  mouth  gaping,  hanging  on  her  arm.  "  Is  it  a 
Downrenter,"  she  inquired,  "resisting  the  sheriff's 
men?" 

"  That 's  about  what  they  is  of  it."  The  man 
was  evidently  grateful  for  her  courteous  manner. 
"  Jurimy  Loucks  is  well  off.  He 's  got  plenty. 
And  he  '11  let  himself  be  turned  out  ruther  'n  give 
the  agent  a  few  bushel  o'  wheat ;  that 's  how  it  is." 

A  piercing  scream  broke  in  on  the  conversation. 
Phe  whirled  about  toward  the  sound.  Allie  be 
gan  to  whimper. 

In  the  front  door  of  the  farmhouse  stood  a  gaunt 
woman  clad  in  a  scant  calico  gown.  Her  head 
and  shoulders  were  wrapped  in  a  worsted  shawl. 
"Yon  got  to  set  me  outdoors,"  she  clamored. 
"  I  won't  stir  a  step.  I  won't  put  foot  to  ground. 
You  got  to  set  me  out." 


20  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"  Set  her  out,  Job,"  said  the  deputy  sheriff. 

The  woman  uttered  another  shriek.  Gitty  and 
Mary  Ann  raised  their  cries  in  concert.  Almiran 
called,  "  Shame  onto  you !  "  and  Allie's  wail  grew 
louder.  The  deputy  appeared  unmoved  by  the 
din  save  that  the  dull  red  face  deepened  its  hue. 
The  fellow  named  Job,  with  a  comrade,  in  patent 
reluctance,  threw  their  arms  about  the  woman's 
rigid  figure  and  carried  her  down  the  walk.  Her 
cries  were  unceasing,  although  she  made  no  physi 
cal  resistance. 

"  Now  bring  out  my  sick  man,"  she  exclaimed 
as  soon  as  she  was  stationed  beside  the  gate. 
"  That 's  all  you  got  'o  do.  Bring  out  the  women 
an'  the  sick  folks,  an'  kill  'em  both.  They  ain't 
anything  meaner  in  the  world,  not  even  for  Tobe 
Snyder." 

Almiran's  guffaw  encouraged  this  speech.  The 
deputy  heeded  it  only  by  bidding  him  "  shut  up." 

"  Git  Jurimy  Loucks,"  he  commanded.  "  Fetch 
mattress  and  all.  He 's  got  'o  come." 

Phe  endeavored  to  quiet  her  brother,  the  clamor 
of  the  others  redoubling  as  the  abashed  constables 
once  more  disappeared  through  the  doorway. 
Presently  four  men  emerged,  bearing  an  impro 
vised  litter.  Upon  it  was  stretched  a  wasted  form 
with  face  as  white  as  the  sheet  tucked  underneath 
the  chin.  Two  clawlike  hands  twitched  at  the 
patchwork  quilt.  A  little  bent  old  woman  squeezed 
herself  up  to  the  pallet,  walking  close  beside  it. 
Her  wan  features,  set  in  an  expression  of  terror, 
sent  a  pang  to  Phe's  heart,  untouched  by  the  noise 


ALONG  THE  ROAD  TO  SCHOOL     21 

of  the  virago.  She  tried  to  push  toward  the  bed. 
She  wished  to  comfort  the  attendant.  She  felt  it 
to  be  but  decent  to  find  if  there  were  not  some 
thing  she  could  do  for  the  invalid.  But  Tobe 
Snyder  barred  her  way. 

"Git  out  o'  this,"  he  growle«d.  "They's  too 
many  women  here  a'ready." 

"  Let  me !  Let  me !  "  begged  Allie.  "  Oh,  I  '11 
give  them  all  the  money  in  my  bank.  I  '11  pay 
the  rent.  I  '11  do  "  - 

Mrs.  Loucks  ceased  her  screams  as  suddenly  as 
if  her  mechanism  had  run  down.  Something  like 
a  smile  flashed  across  her  grim-set  lips.  "  Land  o' 
love,  sonny,"  she  said  to  the  child,  "  we  don't  want 
your  money.  We  've  got  money  enough." 

"  Then  why  "  —  he  began  in  bewilderment. 

"  Come  on,  Allie,"  interrupted  Almiran,  seizing 
his  hand.  "  We  '11  be  late  to  school  if  we  don't 
hurry.  And  we  can't  do  no  good  here." 

"  Have  they  truly  got  money  enough  ? "  the 
little  boy  inquired,  submitting,  however,  to  be  led 
away.  "  Have  they,  honest  and  truly  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course,"  Gitty  broke  in  from  behind 
them.  They  were  falling  into  line  again  in  the 
footpath.  "  It  ain't  lack  o'  money  that 's  the 
matter." 

"  What  is  it,  then  ?  " 

For  an  instant  there  was  no  reply. 

"  Principle,"  said  Almiran  at  length. 

Following  the  word,  like  a  refrain,  there  came 
from  Jurimy  Loucks's  barn  the  peremptory  blast 
of  a  horn. 


CHAPTER  III 
THE   DINNER   HORN 

There  is  a  period  in  youth  when  the  mere  power  of  numbers 
has  a  more  strong  effect  on  ear  and  imagination  than  in  after 
life.  —  WALTEK  SCOTT. 

"  WHAT  's  that  ?  "  cried  Allie  excitedly.  "  No 
body  's  having  dinner  already." 

"  No  matter,"  Almiran  answered,  laughing. 
"  That 's  all  right.  Don't  let  it  bother  you,  little 
boy.  You  come  along  to  school." 

Allie  was  not  to  be  so  readily  silenced.  He 
had  a  child's  inquisitiveness  and  persistency,  and 
would  have  pursued  the  subject  had  not  his  sister, 
her  sore  pride  impelling  her  to  interfere,  ordered 
him  sternly  to  be  still. 

And  at  this  point  the  schoolhouse  was  reached. 
The  ugly  building,  its  walls  covered  with  charcoal 
autographs  and  jackknife  intaglios,  stood  on  a 
knoll  in  a  pine  grove,  where  the  falling  needles 
strove  in  vain  to  carpet  ground  that  was  worn  bare 
and  hard.  At  a  convenient  distance  flourished  a 
quince-tree  planted  by  some  pedagogue  with  a 
thought  of  his  successors  and  a  knowledge  that 
the  ideal  rod  would  be  thence  supplied  in  the 
future. 

About  the  grove  was  scattered  a  score  of  chil- 


THE   DINNER  HORN  23 

dren,  the  younger  girls  playing  house  within  the 
stone  boundaries  they  had  laid  under  a  spreading 
tree,  the  boys  shrieking  at  one  another  over  their 
whirling  tops.  A  group  of  their  elders  whispered 
with  heads  bent  close  together.  There  was  a  sense 
of  something  unusual  in  the  air. 

Almiran  joined  the  conference,  but  Gitty  and 
Mary  Ann  stayed  with  the  strangers.  As  they 
lingered  on  the  doorstep  a  voice  hailed  them. 

"  Helloa,  Gitty,"  it  said. 

Phe,  looking  up,  saw  a  young  fellow  swing  him 
self  over  the  stone  wall  bounding  the  Loucks  farm 
at  this  point.  He  was  a  big,  broad-shouldered 
youth,  not  prepossessing  at  first  sight,  with  his 
confident  look  and  his  cold  keen  eyes.  But  he 
smiled  on  Allie  in  passing,  clapping  the  child  on 
the  shoulder,  and  that  light  transfigured  his  face. 
No  one  is  hopelessly  ugly  who  has  a  good  mouth. 
The  even,  white  teeth,  the  finely  curved  lips,  the 
sweet  though  fleeting  expression,  won  a  way  to 
Phe  Colton's  heart.  "  I  like  that  boy,"  she 
thought. 

"  Helloa,  Matt,"  Gitty  responded  carelessly. 

"  Who  is  he  ?  "  Allie  inquired  after  the  young 
man  had  passed  them.  "  Is  n't  he  splendid  ?  " 

Gitty  tossed  her  head.  "  I  don't  know  as  Matt 's 
so  very  splendid.  He  's  my  brother." 

"  I  think  he 's  splendid."  Allie's  eyes  followed 
Matt  Hager  in  his  approach  to  the  whispering 
group  beyond  them.  "  Why  don't  you  like  him, 
Gitty?" 

They  all  laughed  at  this.    "  Oh,  I  like  him  well 


24  A- DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

enough,"  his  sister  rejoined  with  an  offhand  man 
ner  that  could  not  conceal  her  pride.  "  I  was  only 
thinking  he  's  such  a  case  to  carry  on." 

Neither  Allie  nor  Phe  knew  what  was  meant  by 
"a  case  to  carry  on."  Gitty  perceived  that  the 
latter  also  gazed  with  interest  after  Mathice,  and 
she  regretted  not  having  included  him  in  their 
own  company.  That,  of  course,  was  what  his  salu 
tation  invited.  Boys  did  not  address  their  family 
in  public  unless  they  wished  something  of  them. 
But  it  was  too  late  now.  Almiran  was  accosting 
the  newcomer. 

"  Why  ain't  you  out  with  the  rest?  "  he  asked. 
"Did  you  go?" 

"  Oh,  I  went.  Yes.  But  there  was  nothing 
to  do." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  queried  some  one  else. 

"  Too  many  others,"  said  Matt.  He  lowered  his 
voice.  "  Tobe  was  scared  off  before  half  the  In 
dians  got  there.  I  tell  you  Loucks's  woman  is  as 
good  as  a  watch-dog  herself." 

Ding-ding,  ding-dong !  clanged  a  bell  at  the  win 
dow. 

It  was  rung  by  a  slim,  pale-faced  young  man,  a 
Williams  College  sophomore,  earning  his  slow  way 
to  a  degree.  He  leaned -from  the  casement,  sending 
out  his  summons,  and  in  response  thirty  or  forty 
young  people  of  varying  ages  trooped  into  the 
schoolhouse. 

"  That 's  teacher,"  explained  Mary  Ann,  "  Wil 
liam  B.  Rockwell." 

She  was  relieved  to  have  Phoebe  take  the  initia- 


THE  DINNER  HORN  25 

tive  as  soon  as  they  had  entered  the  room.  The 
new  pupil  told  her  name  and  her  brother's,  what 
they  had  studied  and  how  far  they  were  advanced, 
while  the  young  man  listened,  smiling,  and  seemed 
in  no  haste  to  end  the  conversation,  although  it 
was  time  for  school  to  begin. 

"  She  's  going  to  be  his  pet,"  Mary  Ann  con 
fided  to  Gitty  behind  the  cover  of  Cobbe's  Speller. 

Matt  Hager  fixed  his  gray  eyes  on  the  teacher, 
whom  Almiran  Sweet  was  watching  no  less  in 
tently.  They  had  seldom  seen  William  B.  Rock 
well  in  so  affable  a  mood.  But  Phe  was  very 
pretty.  The  pure  oval  of  her  upturned  face,  the 
fine  line  of  Jier  profile,  the  deep  blue  eyes,  and  the 
rich  brown  hair  were  good  to  look  at.  And  Wil 
liam  B.  Rockwell  was  young. 

A  spitball  struck  the  teacher  on  the  throat.  As 
if  the  touch  were  a  signal  he  was  transformed 
from  a  private  citizen  to  a  public  official.  Seiz 
ing  his  ruler,  he  thumped  upon  the  scarred  red 
desk  behind  which  he  sat.  The  buzzing  room 
sank  instantly  into  order  and  silence.  Heads  fell 
in  the  strictest  devotion  over  books  whose  owners 
swayed  back  and  forth  in  their  study.  Phe  sought 
a  place  among  the  girls  at  one  side  of  the  room. 

The  pupils  sat  facing  the  wall,  where  ran  desks 
of  the  rudest  description,  while  the  benches  were 
of  planks  which  must  be  stepped  over  from  the 
back,  or  the  long  seat  entered  from  either  end. 
Allie,  among  the  smaller  students,  noisily  conned 
Peter  Parley's  Geography.  Phe  was  introduced  to 
the  day's  lesson  in  dumb  show  by  Mary  Ann,  and 


26  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

fell  to  ciphering,  Dayboll's  Arithmetic  propped 
up  before  her.  Mr.  Rockwell  summoned  a  class 
to  recite,  and  the  hum  of  memorizing  went  up  from 
the  seats. 

Presently  the  instructor,  moved  by  much  smear 
ing  of  Phe's  slate  and  many  piteous  glances,  tip 
toed  to  her  side,  and  bending  over  her  shoulder 
began  in  an  undertone  instructing  her  in  the  pro 
cess  by  which  she  was  bewildered.  The  girls  near 
her  leaned  forward  to  titter.  Omar  Mix  winked 
at  Almiran. 

With  great  precision  a  spitball  hit  Mr.  Rock 
well  on  the  left  cheek  from  one  side  of  the  room 
as  another  resounded  upon  the  right  from  the 
opposite  direction.  He  stood  straight,  glaring 
about  him.  According  to  a  superstition  common 
to  the  age  and  the  type,  William  B.  Rockwell 
was  endowed  with  eyes  in  the  back  of  his  head. 
Yet  perhaps  in  this  instance  they  were  not  re 
quired. 

"  Mathice  Hager  and  Almiran  Sweet,"  he  said, 
"  go  to  the  stove." 

The  two  tall  fellows,  not  in  the  least  embar 
rassed,  rose  and  walked  across  the  room.  Out  of 
the  sunshine,  the  sharp  spring  air  still  demanded 
artificial  heat.  The  box  stove  sputtered  with  its 
burden  of  burning  wood.  The  young  men  threw 
themselves  at  full  length  upon  the  floor,  thrusting 
their  heads  underneath  the  stove.  A  subdued 
sound  arose  as  if  they  were  talking  together,  while 
their  outstretched  bodies  obtruded  upon  an  already 
crowded  space.  They  made  no  effort  to  dispose  of 


THE  DINNER  HORN  27 

themselves  less  obtrusively,  and  Mr.  Rockwell  was 
soon  forced  to  say,  — 

"Mathice  Hager  and  Almiran  Sweet  may  toe 
the  crack  and  stoop  over." 

The  young  men  forthwith  drew  their  trium 
phant  faces  into  view,  shrugged  themselves  to  their 
full  height,  and  striding  to  the  seam  in  the  floor 
indicated  by  a  level  forefinger,  placed  their  feet 
exactly  in  position  so  that  the  toes  touched  the 
line,  and  no  more.  Giving  a  last  scrutiny  to  the 
room  before  they  swung  their  bodies  so  that  the 
heads  drooped  to  the  floor,  both  spied  Mr.  Rock 
well  beaming  upon  Phoebe  at  the  foot  of  the  spell 
ing  class. 

"  I  bet  he 's  going  to  keep  company  with  her," 
murmured  Almiran. 

"  I  bet  he  won't." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  I  'm  going  to  keep  company  with  her 
myself." 

Almiran  gave  a  grunt.  Mr.  Rockwell  heard  it 
and  opened  his  mouth  for  a  rebuke.  His  eyes 
were  attracted  first  to  the  face  of  the  clock,  and 
he  announced  recess. 

The  children  rushed  from  the  room  in  tumultu 
ous  disorder,  the  older  pupils  following  more  lei 
surely  to  show  that  they  were  in  no  such  haste  for 
amusement.  Yet  Phe  was  soon  swept  into  play 
in  which  they  all  participated.  She  joined  a  circle 
moving  about  Omar  Mix,  while  girls'  unruly  sopra 
nos  mingled  with  the  squeak  and  growl  of  boys' 
changing  voices  in  the  words :  — 


28  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"  There  she  stands,  the  handsome  creature. 

Whom  she  is  I  do  not  know. 
I  admire  her  for  her  beauty. 
Let  her  answer,  Yes  or  No." 

Like  most  of  the  young  people  of  her  day  Phe 
was  thoroughly  grounded,  in  the  principles  of  pro 
per  speech,  however  far  any  of  them  might  err  in 
practice.  And  that  "intransitive  verbs  require 
the  same  case  after  as  before  them  when  both 
words  refer  to  the  same  person  or  thing  "  was  im 
printed  not  alone  upon  her  memory,  but  also  on 
her  conversation. 

"  Oh,  hear  to  Phe  Colton !  "  cried  Caty  Acker. 
"  She  says,  '  Who  she  is  I  do  not  know.'  " 

Those  who  caught  the  criticism  laughed  deri 
sively.  Phe  blushed  to  her  forehead.  She  was 
learning  the  power  of  a  popular  cry.  After  that 
she  sang  "  Whom  she  is  "  with  the  others. 

In  the  constant  change  among  the  occupants  of 
the  ring's  position  of  honor,  Matt  Hager  had  now 
been  stationed  there.  Phe's  attention  was  dis 
tracted  by  the  fault  found  with  her  diction.  She 
was  looking  after  A  Hie,  too,  who  was  playing  tag 
near  by.  She  was  all  unprepared  when  two  hands 
were  laid  in  gentle  firmness  upon  her  shoulders. 
She  was  pulled  slightly  forward.  A  face  bent  to 
touch  her  own.  Mathice  kissed  her  upon  the 
mouth. 

With  a  stifled  cry  the  girl  shrank  from  him. 
She  heard  as  if  it  were  part  of  a  nightmare  the 
shrill  mirth  of  her  companions.  To  most  of  us 
the  awaking  from  childhood  came  not  by  a  friendly 


THE   DINNER  HORN  .  29 

touch,  but  with  some  such  rude  handling.  Phrebe 
had  played  kissing  games  before  this,  but  —  she 
realized  now  —  that  was  as  a  little  girl.  It  was 
the  first  caress  of  youth  that  burned  upon  her  lips. 

Matt  paid  as  scant  heed  as  she  to  the  amused 
hubbub  about  them.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said 
he  involuntarily.  He  had  never  until  then  asked 
forgiveness  of  anything  on  earth. 

'*  It  was  my  fault,"  stammered  Phe,  falling  back 
from  the  circle.  "  I  had  no  right  to  take  part  if 
—  if  I  felt  like  that.  Oh,  please,"  he  was  follow 
ing  her  abashed  retreat,  "please  go  on  with  the 
rest.  Only  —  I  can't  play  any  more." 

"  Come,  Phe,"  called  many  voices.  "  It 's  your 
turn  to  be  in  the  ring." 

"  We  are  n't  playing,"  Matt  announced  coolly. 
"  You  go  ahead.  Phe  and  I  want  to  have  a  little 
talk." 

The  girl  was  seated  on  the  exposed  roots  of  a 
pine-tree,  where  he  proceeded  to  make  a  place  for 
himself.  As  he  did  so,  as  he  stooped  his  tall  head 
under  the  sweeping  branches,  there  was  a  slight 
sidewise  motion  of  his  figure,  a  trick  of  recover 
ing  its  balance  by  an  equally  abrupt  gesture.  It 
was  all  bewilderingly  familiar  to  Phe. 

She  fixed  her  blue  eyes  upon  him.  The  misery 
of  their  recent  relation,  the  foolish  game,  and  the 
young  man's  offense  were  lost  for  the  moment  in 
this  confusion  of  remembrance.  "  Where  have  I 
seen  you  before  ?"  she  demanded. 

Matt  gave  a  conscious  laugh.  "  You  saw  me  in 
school,"  he  answered.  "  Of  course." 


30  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"  Oh,  not  there.  Somewhere,  sometime,  we  two 
have  met."  In  his  silence  she  pursued  her  inquiry, 
still  studying  his  features.  "  Don't  you  feel  it 
too,  —  as  if  you  had  seen  me  before  to-day  ?  " 

Matt  gathered  up  a  handful  of  needles  and 
began  the  construction  of  a  chain.  He  did  not 
return  her  look.  The  reticence  in  his  manner  in 
creased  Phe's  curiosity. 

"  Have  n't  you  seen  me  too  ?  "  she  repeated. 

He  flung  away  the  pine  needles.  Turning  full 
upon  her  he  gazed  straight  into  her  eyes.  "  Yes," 
he  answered  deliberately.  "  And  I  've  thought  of 
you  ever  since." 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  flushing  hotly.  This  was 
so  much  more  than  she  had  expected.  "  Where 
was  it?"  rather  faintly  she  queried. 

"  Ah,  that,''  said  Matt  with  a  light  laugh, "  is 
my  secret.  I  could  n't  tell  you  that." 

Mr.  Rockwell  now  appeared  at  the  door.  Recess 
was  over. 

At  the  first  clang  of  the  bell  he  held,  it  clashed 
upon  another  sound.  There  was  the  blast  of  a 
dinner  horn. 

The  teacher's  arm  dropped  in  a  gesture  of  de 
spair.  He  watched,  as  if  prepared  for  resigna 
tion,  the  immediate  response.  Every  young  man, 
some  of  the  girls,  many  of  the  little  boys,  answered. 
In  one  moment  they  had  fled.  In  another  they 
disappeared  from  sight. 

Surveying  the  few  pupils  who  remained  he  said, 
"  You  may  as  well  go  home,  children.  There  will 
be  no  more  school  to-day." 


THE   DINNER  HORN  31 

Phe  had  seized  upon  her  brother,  thus  restrain 
ing  him  from  following  the  others.  "  What  was 
it  ?  "  he  asked  querulously,  as  if  the  world  owed 
him  an  explanation.  "  What  is  it  all  about  ?  " 

Mr.  Rockwell  heard  and  answered,  if  that  could 
be  called  an  answer  which  Allie  in  no  wise  under 
stood  :  — 

"  It  was  a  warning  that  the  sheriff's  men  are 
out ;  a  warning,  and  a  call  to  the  Indians." 

Thereupon  he  went  into  the  schoolhouse,  slam 
ming  the  door  behind  him. 


CHAPTER  IV 

VISITOKS 

Many  elephants  cannot  wade  the  river.     The  mosquito  says  it 
is  only  knee-deep.  —  Bengal  Proverb. 

WHEN  Allie  rushed  in  upon  the  family,  breath 
less  and  eager  to  recount  the  adventures  of  his 
first  day  at  school,  the  doctor,  even  with  his  supe 
rior  information  concerning  life  at  Farley,  could 
say  little  to  satisfy  the  child's  curiosity. 

"  Those  men  we  saw  in  their  mummery,  Phe  — 
you  remember  ?  They  call  themselves  Indians. 
Foolish  fellows !  The  Legislature  passed  an  act 
against  disguises,  this  winter,  aimed  at  the  Anti- 
renters.  They  break  the  law  every  time  they  trick 
themselves  out  in  that  fashion.  Their  summons, 
I  suspect,  is  to  defy  the  sheriff.  They  seem  beside 
themselves.  The  end  is  inevitable.  The  gover 
nor  will  call  for  troops  to  stamp  out  the  insurrec 
tion.  They  know  they  can't  fight  the  State,  and 
yet  they  will  assuredly  provoke  it  to  act." 

"  Oh,  dear,"  Phe  reflected,  "  and  he  went  right 
into  the  danger  !  He  is  so  reckless." 

A  girl  rarely  thinks  the  worse  of  a  man  because 
he  is  reckless.  And  already  Matt  Hager  was  He 
to  Phoebe. 

She  awaited  apprehensively  her  father's  return 


VISITORS  33 

from  his  afternoon  round  of  visits,  sure  that  he 
would  bring  news  of  what  had  occurred  that  morn 
ing.  When  his  man,  Henry  Fisher,  drove  into 
the  grassy  dooryard,  Phe  ran  out  to  meet  him. 
"  Where  is  father  ?  "  she  called.  "  Has  anything 
happened  ?  " 

Henry  was  a  sheep-faced  young  fellow,  grinning 
at  a  word  and  blushing  to  the  roots  of  his  blue- 
white  hair.  He  turned  scarlet  at  Phe's  appear 
ance,  and  his  broad  smile  widened. 

"  You  're  turrible  scairt  about  your  father," 
said  he.  "  They  ain't  nothin'  gone  wrong.  He 
jes'  stopped  a'  Widder  Fincks's  down  the  road  a 
ways.  He  ast  me  to  drive  along  home  an'  tell  the 
folks  not  'o  wait  supper.  He  ain't  hurt." 

"  And,"  Phe  hesitated,  stroking  the  horse's 
sleek  side,  "  what  was  the  matter  this  morning, 
Henry  ?  Was  anybody  hurt  ?  " 

Henry  glanced  helplessly  towards  the  kitchen 
door.  It  was  a  family  saying  that  he  had  no 
opinions  until  Jemima  Lane  examined  them  and 
they  were  pronounced  genuine.  Fortunately,  at 
this  juncture,  Jemima  appeared  on  the  back  porch, 
her  apron  thrown  over  her  head.  "  You  back  ?  " 
she  remarked  by  way  of  salutation. 

Henry  grinned  an  assent. 

"  What  was  they  of  that  horn  blowin'  ?  " 

Forthwith  the  man's  tongue  was  loosened. 

"  You  never  see  sech  works,"  said  he.  "  The 
depity  an'  his  men  was  set  on  to  Jurimy  Loucks's. 
They  was  as  many  as  twenty  Injuns.  They  car 
ried  rifles,  an'  they  acted  ugly.  Snyder  an'  his  men 


34  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

they  run  like  all  git  out.  From  there  they  went 
to  Michel  Enders's.  'T  ain't  far  from  Loucks's. 
An'  Enders  he  blowed  his  horn  so  't  the  Injuns 
come  ag'in  —  strong.  They  must  'a'  been  thirty 
—  forty  on  'em.  What  ye  s'pose  they  done? 
They  took  Tobe  Snyder  an'  hove  him  down  an'  set 
on  him.  He  could  n't  budge  to  help  hisself .  Nor 
his  men  they  could  n't  do  nothin'  nuther,  four  to 
one  ag'in  'em.  I  guess  they  was  putty  well  scairt, 
Snyder  an'  'mongst  'em.  The  upshot  was  they  lef ' 
Enders's,  too." 

Phe  regarded  Henry's  foolish  smile  with  a  terri 
fied  fascination.  "  But,"  she  faltered,  "  that  was 
resisting  the  law.  Won't  they  be  punished  ?  " 

"  Why,  Phoebe,"  urged  the  man,  "  they  was 
masked.  Nobody  can't  tell  who  they  be.  O'  course 
they  'd  be  arrested  if  they  should  git  ketched.  But 
who 's  goin'  to  ketch  'em  when  they  can't  tell  who 
they  be  ?  " 

He  was  so  confident  of  his  position  that  he  dared 
maintain  it  in  Jemima's  very  presence.  He  as 
sumed  that  her  silence  gave  him  sanction.  But 
she  broke  that  silence.  "  What 's  to  hender  their 
bein'  ketched  ?  "  she  queried  sternly.  "  Take  a 
town  o'  this  size,  an'  forty  —  fifty  men  in  it  luggin' 
a  secret  'round,  I  guess  't  won't  be  long  before  it 's 
plain  enough  who  they  be.  In  half  a  hunderd 
men  they 's  bound  to  be  one  tattler." 

Her  sharp  voice  seemed  to  tear  Henry's  boastful 
assertions  into  shreds.  Phoebe  shivered,  and  began 
her  retreat  to  the  house  from  the  chill  of  the  even 
ing  air.  Henry  called  "  Git  ap  "  to  Sam,  taking  his 


VISITORS  35 

revenge  as  he  drove  past  the  girl  by  muttering  for 
her  ear  alone,  — 

"  Ef  they  was  a  woman  'mongst  them  Injuns  — 
I  guess  the  town  would  ring  with  the  names  of 
'em  all  by  cockcrow." 

He  might  have  known  ! 

"  A  woman  !  "  echoed  Jemima  Lane  before  the 
last  phrase  left  his  lips.  "  A  woman,  says  I ! 
Gimme  a  passel  o'  men  for  spreadin'  news.  Gimme 
a  man  gossip  an'  he  beats  creation.  Now  you  take 
that  hoss  along  to  the  barn,  an'  put  him  out  quick 's 
ye  can.  Supper's  ready  an'  waitin'.  Where's 
the  doctor  ?  " 

Henry  repeated  his  master's  message. 

"  For  all  that,"  declared  Jemima  authorita 
tively,  "  he  ain't  goin'  without  a  meal  o'  vittles. 
Not  while  he  's  clos't  to  hand.  Allie,  lemme  have 
the  horn." 

She  called  to  the  child  within  the  house,  who 
brought  her  a  great  tin  horn  from  its  nail  behind 
the  door.  Jemima  raised  it  to  her  lips,  blowing  a 
mighty  blast. 

"  That  '11  bring  him,"  she  observed  in  satisfac 
tion,  and  carried  it  back  to  its  place. 

After  their  lessons  were  learned  that  night  Phe 
and  Allie  strayed  out  of  doors  again.  The  sounds 
and  scents  of  early  spring  drew  them.  The  frogs 
in  the  meadow  called  them.  That  first  faint  tra 
cery  of  green  outlining  bough  and  bush  waved  to 
them.  The  house  was  as  a  prison.  They  found 
their  wraps,  and  the  doctor  silenced  Mrs.  Colton's 
remonstrance  with  "  Oh,  let  them  go.  They  will 


36  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

run  about  enough  to  keep  warm.  And  the  even 
ing  is  perfect." 

So  the  little  boy  and  the  tall  girl  swung  on  the 
gate  and  chattered  idly  together  while  the  twilight 
lingered  and  the  stars  came  out  in  the  clear,  pale 
sky.  Allie  related  to  his  sister  the  unabridged 
details  of  a  muskrat  hunt  which  had  occupied 
that  afternoon.  Phe  gave  him  a  divided  atten 
tion. 

"  Hark !  "  she  interrupted  at  last.  "  What 's 
that  ?  Don't  you  hear  something  ?  " 

"  Something  ?  I  hear  all  sorts  of  things,  —  the 
tree-toads,  and  a  cow  mooing,  and  —  Oh,  that !  " 

He  clasped  her  hand  tightly. 

Along  the  road  came  the  thud,  thud  of  horses' 
feet,  many  horses  nearing  them  at  a  gallop.  It 
had  been  an  exciting  day,  and  Phoebe  and  the 
child  were  both  unnerved.  They  clung  to  each 
other,  staring  with  frightened  eyes  in  the  direction 
of  the  sound. 

As  it  grew  louder  it  brought  Dr.  Colton  and  his 
wife  to  the  door,  the  little  woman  shrinking  into 
the  shadow  of  the  self-reliant  man,  they  two  act 
ing  the  part  they  had  always  played  together. 
Henry  followed  Jemima  Lane  around  the  corner 
of  the  house.  No  one  spoke. 

And  now  they  could  see  what  approached  them. 
A  score  of  men  were  charging  down  the  quiet  road. 
Their  horses  were  fantastically  trapped  in  blankets 
that  grazed  the  ground,  the  head  concealed  except 
for  the  eyes  and  ears  and  nose.  The  riders  wore 
long  blouses  of  flowered  chintz,  with  horsehair 


VISITORS  37 

plumes  or  nodding  feathers  stuck  in  their  hair. 
All  were  masked. 

Allie  began  to  whimper.  No  one  else  made  a 
sound.  Phe  knelt  beside  him,  taking  the  boy  in 
her  arms.  She  tried  to  speak,  to  comfort  him,  but 
her  lips  were  dry  and  stiff.  The  words  would  not 
come  from  her  throat. 

The  leader  of  the  band  drew  his  rein  at  the  gate. 
He  swung  himself  to  the  ground,  followed  by  one 
after  another  of  his  companions,  until  some  half 
dozen  had  alighted.  The  others  halted,  but  sat 
still,  statues  of  folly,  regarding  the  scene  through 
those  owl-like  eyes  of  their  masks. 

As  the  gate  opened  Allie  uttered  a  gasp  of 
horror.  But  he  whirled  about  valiantly  in  Phe's 
embrace. 

"  You  good-for-nothing  Indians,"  said  he,  "  don't 
you  dare  to  touch  my  sister." 

The  men  laughed  constrainedly.  The  foremost 
lifted  a  voice  inartistically  disguised.  "  Is  that 
Dr.  Colton  in  the  door  ?  We  want  to  see  Dr. 
Colton." 

"  Here  I  am,"  answered  the  doctor.  He  came 
to  the  head  of  the  short  flight  of  steps. 

•His  wife  cried  out.  Phoebe  and  Allie  with  trem 
bling  courage  ran  up  the  path  to  station  themselves 
at  his  side.  Jemima  and  Henry  were  already  there. 

"Nobody  means  to  hurt  him,"  two  or  three  men 
assured  them  in  gruff  or  falsetto  tones.  "  Don't 
be  scared.  We  're  only  going  to  have  a  little  talk 
with  the  doctor." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  say  ?  " 


38  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

"This  much."  The  leader  advanced  until  he 
stood  alone  in  the  gravel  walk,  facing  that  group 
on  the  stairs  above  him.  "  Doc,  you  don't  want  to 
blow  that  dinner  horn  again." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  ?  "  The  doctor's  eyebrows  rose 
quizzically.  "  Why  don't  I  ?  " 

"  Because  the  Indians  say  you  sha'n't.  That 's 
why." 

"  Gentlemen,"  the  mild  tone  inquired,  "  what  is 
your  objection  to  my  dinner  horn  ?  " 

"  You  know  well  enough,"  the  leader  rejoined. 
"  It 's  our  signal.  We  can't  afford  to  be  fooled 
with  false  alarms.  We  don't  allow  any  horns  to 
be  blowed  in  Farley,  not  unless  they  mean  the 
one  thing.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  Not  quite,"  said  the  doctor.  "  What  is  the 
one  thing  ?  " 

"  A  warning  that  the  sheriff  has  come." 

"  Ah ! " 

"  Now  do  you  understand? " 

"Apparently,"  Dr.  Colton  answered,  "you  do 
not  understand  me.  Gentlemen,  my  dinner  horn 
shall  blow  whenever,  and  for  whatever  reason,  my 
family  think  best.  I  bid  you  all  good-evening." 

He  would  have  left  them,  had  not  an  exclama 
tion  from  the  leader  arrested  him  :  "  Wait  a  min 
ute.  Not  so  fast,  if  you  please.  Do  you  suppose 
that  ends  the  matter  ?  " 

"It  does  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,"  was  the 
indifferent  reply. 

"  Then,  by  jingo,  it  don't  end  it  as  far  as  we  're 
concerned." 


VISITORS  39 

"  Very  well." 

"You  shall  hear  from  us,  doc." 

"  Very  well." 

"  Let 's  see  if  you  say,  '  Very  well '  this  time 
next  fall.  Hey,  boys  ?  " 

There  was  a  hoarse  chorus  of  assent.  Phosbe, 
shaking  in  her  clutch  upon  Jemima's  steady  arm, 
noticed  one  figure  near  the  leader,  a  figure  that, 
a  cold  grasp  at  her  heart  told  her,  had  something 
in  its  bearing  which  —  again  —  she  recognized. 
This  man,  she  saw,  was  not  only  ill  at  ease,  but  he 
failed  to  join  in  the  muttered  assurance. 

In  the  interest  of  the  moment  no  one  had  heard 
signs  of  interruption  until  the  guard  in  the  road 
hissed  a  warning  as  the  rattle  of  wheels  drew 
nearer.  A  trim  little  buggy  with  two  horses  was 
bowling  along  the  road. 

"  Whoa,  boys,"  said  the  driver  curtly. 

Two  men  leaped  from  the  carriage.  The  In 
dians  gave  a  common  cry  of  vexation,  most  of  them 
forgetting  their  affected  speech.  Phe  knew  the 
voice  of  the  man  near  her  —  the  man  who  had  been 
ill  at  ease  —  when  he  grumbled  under  his  breath 
but  distinctly,  "  What  ill  wind  blew  them  here  ?  " 

The  newcomers  were  a  dapper,  big-headed  strip 
ling  and  an  elderly  man  of  commanding  presence. 
"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  he  asked  peremptorily,  as 
he  stalked  along  the  path,  followed  by  the  youth. 
"  You  are  up  to  no  mischief,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  Squire,"  the  chief  speaker  assured  him, 
"  we  are  all  right.  We  were  just  paying  doc  here 
a  friendly  visit.  We  have  n't  touched  him." 


40  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

"Ah!  So  this  is  the  new  doctor."  He  ad 
vanced  to  the  lowest  step,  and  reached  up  his  hand. 
"  I  am  Mark  Mayham,  at  your  service,  Dr.  Col- 
ton."  Then  first  spying  Mrs.  Colton  he  removed 
his  high  silk  hat  with  a  quaint  stateliness.  "  I  beg 
your  pardon,  madam.  I  had  no  idea  there  Were 
ladies  present." 

The  doctor  named  his  companions.  Esquire 
Mayham  ceremoniously  presented  the  friend  with 
him  as  Demosthenes  Mix. 

At  the  name  Phe  regarded  the  spruce  little  man 
more  attentively.  She  found  that  he  was  peering 
through  the  dusk  at  her. 

"  I  trust  our  good  offices  are  not  required,"  he 
said  in  a  mincing  attempt  at  precision.  "  Boys," 
addressing  the  Indians,  "  of  course  you  understand 
that  the  law  is  set  at  defiance  by  your  disguise. 
You  are  aware  that  I  could  see  every  one  of  you  in 
jail.  I  hold  you  in  the  hollow  of  my  hand." 

There  was  a  yell  of  derision. 

"  Boys,"  repeated  the  man  Phe  had  been  watch 
ing,  "  don't  you  feel  pretty  small  ?  Mossy  Mix  is 
holding  us  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand." 

He  mimicked  the  high-pitched  tone,  but  through 
his  words  Phoabe  heard  the  deeper  voice  of  Mathice 
Hager. 

"  You  may  jeer  now,"  Demosthenes  called  above 
another  shout,  "  yet  you  know  that  I  speak  the 
truth.  You  Indians  are  going  straight  to  destruc 
tion." 

"  We  're  going  straight  to  our  homes  at  present," 
retorted  the  leader,  facing  his  men.  "  I  'm  sure 


VISITORS  41 

we  're  obligated  for  your  interest,  Mossy.  It 's 
very  kind.  And,  doc,  you  remember  all  I  said." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  assented  the  doctor,  "  I  shall  re 
member." 

"May  I  ask  what  it  was  about?  "  inquired  the 
squire.  "  Your  dinner  horn,  perhaps  ?  " 

"  Yes.     They  say  I  sha'n't  blow  it." 

"  And  what  do  you  say  ?  " 

«  That  I  shall." 

"  You  are  altogether  in  the  right,"  Squire  May- 
ham  decided. 

At  this,  another  outcry  arose  from  the  Indians, 
an  interjection  of  surprise.  "  Why,  how  is  that?" 
demanded  the  leader.  "  I  thought  you  were  with 
us,  heart  and  soul." 

"No,  my  friend."  The  carefully  modulated 
voice  neither  rose  nor  fell  in  its  earnestness.  "  I 
sympathize  with  the  cause  of  Anti-rent.  I  believe 
that  I  have  a  legal  and  a  moral  claim  to  the  land 
my  forefathers  occupied  for  generations.  But  I 
never  held,  and  I  do  not  hold  to-night,  any  such 
view  as  you  have  come  here  to  enforce.  It  is  mon 
strous  that  you  should  interfere  in  the  private 
affairs  of  a  private  citizen.  I  rejoice  to  see  this 
stranger  among  us  assert  his  independence  and  his 
manhood.  Dr.  Colton,  I  congratulate  you  upon 
the  course  you  have  pursued." 

The  doctor  himself  had  taken  his  position  from 
an  impulse,  a  swift  decision  that  the  time  for  acqui 
escence  was  past,  that  he  could  be  no  plaything 
of  popular  feeling.  He  knew  one  of  the  rare 
pure  joys  of  earth  as  he  confronted  his  enemies, 


42  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

clasping  the  hand  Squire  Mayham  stretched  out 
to  him. 

"  I,  likewise,  approve  of  your  action  in  toto" 
Demosthenes  Mix  assured  him,  his  eyes  on  Phrebe's 
face. 

Matt  Hager  crossed  over  to  the  leader,  murmur 
ing  something  in  his  ear.  The  man  thereupon 
gruffly  gave  an  order  to  depart.  "  But  we  sha'n't 
forget  you,  doc,"  he  announced  by  way  of  farewell. 
"  No,  nor  yet  you,  squire." 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  you,"  Demosthenes  called 
after  them,  —  "  not  in  the  least  afraid." 

"  You  've  no  need  to  be,"  was  the  rejoinder. 
"  We  're  fighting  men,  sonny.  We  would  n't  go  to 
touch  you." 

With  this  the  Indians  cantered  away. 


CHAPTER  V 

GENERAL   TRAINING 

One  dupe  is  as  impossible  as  one  twin.  —  JOHN  STEELING. 

"  I  'LL  drive  up  clos't  to  the  green,"  said  Henry 
Fisher,  "  so  as  ye  can  all  git  out  'fore  I  take  the 
hosses  to  the  tavern  and  bait  'em." 

Farley  was  a  town  of  farms.  The  sleepy  Main 
Street  contained  but  a  score  or  so  of  buildings 
clustered  about  the  green.  Here  the  visiting  cir 
cus  raised  its  tent,  here  the  oration  was  delivered 
on  Independence  Day,  and  here  naturally  was  the 
spot  selected  for  General  Training. 

This  was  a  school  holiday,  and  although  Dr. 
Colton,  who  was  exempt  from  military  duties,  had 
gone  as  usual  about  his  round  of  visits,  he  was 
too  merciful  to  his  children  to  require  the  services 
of  either,  while  Henry  was  a  militiaman.  He 
wore  no  uniform.  Members  of  the  Goodwood 
Company  of  Farley  were  to  be  seen  coming  to 
gether  from  every  direction,  but,  save  for  the  cap 
tain  and  his  first  lieutenant,  whose  absurd  gar 
ments  were  of  antique  make,  and  except  for  the 
second  lieutenant's  sash  and  sabre,  there  was  no 
thing  in  the  men's  dress  to  indicate  that  they  were 
soldiers.  Many  of  them  bore  no  weapon  more 


44  A   DOWNHENTER'S   SON 

formidable  than  a  stick.  General  Training  was 
fading  into  a  listless  form  preserved  as  an  excuse 
for  one  of  the  country's  few  merrymakings.  All 
dread  of  war,  all  belief  in  the  need  of  prepara 
tion,  had  died  from  the  minds  of  men.  And  the 
secession  of  the  Southern  States  was  but  fifteen 
years  in  the  future. 

Allie  sprang  over  the  back  of  the  wagon,  dart 
ing  away  into  the  increasing  crowd.  Jemima 
climbed  stiffly  from  her  own  chair  and  helped  Mrs. 
Colton  to  descend  to  the  ground,  while  Phe  pushed 
these  seats  aside. 

"  Now  you  be  round,"  Jemima  addressed  Henry 
sternly,  "  the  minute  you  're  dismissed  for  noonin'. 
We  ain't  goin'  to  wait  for  ye.  I  tell  ye  that.  Ye 
won't  git  a  mouffle  unless  you  're  here." 

"  All  right,"  he  assented.  "  I  '11  be  round,"  and 
drove  away.  % 

Phcebe  was  captured  at  once  by  some  of  the 
friends  she  had  made  at  school.  She  saw  her 
mother,  attended  by  Jemima,  comfortably  estab 
lished  under  one  of  the  maples  that  bordered 
the  great  lawn.  Then  the  knot  of  girls  wandered 
up  and  down  the  board  walk,  giggling  and  whis 
pering  and  coquetting  with  the  youths  who  hung 
about  them  waiting  for  the  sergeant  to  "  fall  in  " 
his  men. 

Presently  the  rattle  of  the  drum  called  the  com 
pany  into  line,  such  a  line  !  Crooked,  wavering, 
the  militia,  awkward  individually  and  collectively, 
faced  the  right  and  swayed  from  one  foot  to  the 
other  in  preparation  for  the  march.  Fife  notes 


GENERAL  TRAINING  45 

pierced  the  air  in  an  unintentional  variation  of 
Yankee  Doodle.  They  drew  the  Goodwood  Com 
pany  after  them.  Up  the  street  tramped  the  men, 
cheered  on  by  accompanying  boys  and  by  the  wav 
ing  handkerchiefs  of  women. 

"Don't  he  look  nice?"  said  Gitty  Hager  in 
Phe's  ear. 

"  Splendid,"  was  the  ready  answer.  "  I  think  he 
looks  the  best  of  anybody.  But  then  all  the  rest 
are  horrid." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  about  that."  Gitty 's  lips 
pouted.  "  Matt  looks  kind  of  nice." 

Phoebe  unclasped  her  friend's  hand  to  stare  at 
her.  "  Why,  I  meant  Matt !  " 

"  Did  you  ?  "  with  a  foolish  smile.  "  I  was  talk 
ing  about  Almiran." 

When  the  company  was  countermarched  it  re 
turned  to  the  green,  where  various  evolutions  were 
displayed  with  more  or  less  hesitancy,  but  to  un 
critical  observers.  "  I  don't  see,"  said  Jemima 
Lane  to  Mrs.  Colton,  "  but  Henery  does  as  good 
as  any  of  'em  —  considerin'." 

The  signal  for  dismissal  was  followed  by  Hen 
ry's  prompt  return  to  their  group.  The  habit  of 
obedience  and  fear  of  Jemima  combined  to  keep 
him  from  those  few  who  surrounded  the  farm 
wagon  whence  its  owner  was  dispensing  home-made 
spruce  beer.  Principle  restrained  him  from  follow 
ing  the  many  who  flocked  to  the  bar-room  of  the 
tavern.  Intemperance  was  common  in  these  days, 
but  Henry  was  a  Washingtonian  and  had  signed 
the  pledge. 


46  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

Yet  Jemima's  sharp  eyes  noticed,  while  they 
carried  their  basket  to  a  point  of  comparative  se 
clusion,  that  her  fellow-servant  was  absent-minded 
and  constrained,  "  kind  o'  sly,"  she  called  it  to  her 
self.  She  had  seen  much  whispering  carried  on  in 
the  ranks  ;  Henry  had  been  drawn  aside  and  but 
tonholed  more  than  once.  Something  was  astir 
that  June  morning,  and  evidently  young  Fisher  was 
a  party  to  it.  Jemima  decided  not  to  leave  him 
alone  for  an  instant. 

"  Land  knows  what  mischief  the  poor  fool  would 
get  into  without  me,"  her  reflection  ran. 

Throughout  the  morning  Allie  had  been  eating 
whenever  he  could  coax  a  cooky  from  his  mother, 
and  Phoebe  carried  off  her  choice  of  their  bountiful 
provision  —  fat  cucumber  pickles  and  soft  molasses 
cakes  were  all  she  wished  —  to  devour  in  the  society 
of  her  schoolmates.  Perhaps  in  attaching  herself 
to  Gitty  she  had  a  hope  that  Mathice  might  join 
them,  —  sisters  do  serve  such  useful  purposes  in 
this  world.  But  the  young  man  seemed  pointedly 
to  avoid  any  company  of  which  Phoebe  formed  a 
part. 

Under  these  circumstances  a  girl  always  consid 
ers  herself  the  sufficient  reason.  "  What  have  I 
done  ?  "  is  her  first  question.  Yet,  as  is  also  usual, 
Matt's  shyness  came  from  causes  wherein  Phcebe 
personally  had  no  share. 

They  two  had  scarcely  seen  each  other  since  the 
night  of  the  Indians'  warning.  Spring  work  came 
on,  and  Matt  was  kept  from  school.  He  was  too 
tired  to  take  part  in  the  rare  festivities  of  the 


GENERAL  TRAINING  47 

neighborhood,  while  they  never  met  at  church. 
During  those  weeks  it  had  been  partly  a  general 
absorption  in  farm  duties,  partly  Matt's  strong 
personality  which  had,  so  far,  protected  the  threat 
ened  men  from  harm,  and,  while  consorting  with 
those  who  bore  her  father  an  implacable  ill-will,  he 
was  ashamed  to  face  the  daughter.  He  felt  the 
girl  insulted,  too,  by  the  look  and  the  laugh  that 
followed  his  protests  against  a  raid  on  Dr.  Colton. 
His  fellow  rioters  could  comprehend  interference 
in  favor  of  Squire  Mayham,  who  was  Matt's  dis 
tant  cousin.  But  why  should  he  stand  between 
them  and  the  new  physician,  if  it  were  not  for  the 
sake  of  a  pretty  girl  ? 

To-day  there  was  still  further  cause  for  him  to 
stand  aloof.  Old  Jacob  Hager  was,  in  local  par 
lance,  "  well  off."  His  only  son  had  not  finished 
working  out  his  time.  Money  was  scarce  in  a 
community  relying  largely  upon  a  system  of  ex 
change,  and  even  the  smallest  coin  seldom  fell  into 
Mathice's  hand.  He  was  too  proud  to  stroll  with 
Phe  past  the  wagon  where  root-beer  was  sold,  or 
by  the  booth,  displaying  in  irresistible  temptation 
slabs  of  golden  gingerbread,  glasses  of  lemonade, 
and  a  jar  of  pink  and  white  peppermint  sticks. 
Matt  stalked  about  the  green  during  nooning, 
neither  touching  the  luncheon  with  which  his 
mother  had  filled  his  pockets,  nor  paying  more  than 
indifferent  heed  to  the  stir  and  conference  among 
his  friends. 

After  an  hour's  rest  the  drum  again  summoned 
the  company  together.  It  marched  and  counter- 


48  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

inarched,  wheeled  right  and  left,  charged  bayonets, 
and  at  four  o'clock  was  disbanded. 

Now  wagons  began  to  collect  from  the  tavern 
stables,  the  militiamen  to  gather  together  their  fam 
ilies  preparatory  to  adjournment  to  the  fair  ground, 
where  the  day  was  to  conclude  with  horseraces. 
Henry  Fisher,  one  of  the  minority  who  were  going 
directly  home,  was  as  impatient  in  his  easy  way 
as  if  the  expedition  had  been  against  his  wishes, 
—  altogether  to  please  the  others,  who,  having 
effected  their  purpose,  must  allow  him  his  tardy 
rights. 

"Can't  fool  no  more  time  away,"  he  remon 
strated.  "  Why  don't  you  folks  hurry  up  ?  I  got 
'o  git  home  an'  tend  to  my  chores." 

"  Well,  nobuddy  's  hinderin'  ye,"  snapped  Je 
mima  Lane.  She,  also,  was  tired  and  cross.  "  We  're 
ready,  land  knows.  Where  's  Phrebe  ?  " 

"No,  Phoebe  ain't  here,  nuther,"  Henry  com 
plained.  "  Now  I  got  'o  wait  for  her,  I  s'pose." 

"  Phe  told  me  she  would  walk  home,"  Mrs. 
Colton's  mild  voice  interjected.  "  Several  of  the 
girls  went  her  way.  I  saw  them  starting  off  some 
time  ago." 

Allie  fell  to  whining  at  this.  He  wished  to 
walk  and  overtake  Pho3be.  His  mother's  atten 
tion  was  distracted  in  soothing  him,  or  she  might 
have  observed  the  group  of  young  folks  on  a  by 
path  across  the  fields  that  bordered  the  turnpike, 
now  deep  in  dust.  The  half  dozen  friends  soon 
parted  from  one  another,  as  their  ways  led  in  vari 
ous  directions.  Phe  was  presently  left  with  Gitty, 


GENERAL  TRAINING  49 

then,  from  the  bars  in  Hager's  meadow  lot,  quite 
alone. 

"  I  don't  see  what  was  the  matter  with  the  boys 
to-night,"  was  Gitty's  valedictory.  "  Pretty  cool 
of  'em,  I  think,  to  let  us  go  home  by  ourselves. 
Every  one  of  'em  disappeared  the  minute  they  was 
disbanded.  Did  you  see  that  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Phrebe. 

She  toiled  up  the  slope  on  the  farther  side  of 
the  rail  fence,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  grove  of  maples 
that  crowned  the  summit,  her  mind  busy  with  the 
events  of  a  tedious  holiday,  her  step  lagging  as  she 
became  fully  aware  how  dull  the  hours  had  been. 
So  tired  she  was  that,  on  reaching  the  crown  of  the 
hill,  she  threw  herself  upon  the  ground,  at  the  foot 
of  a  large  tree,  and  leaned  her  head  against  its 
trunk  to  rest  for  a  stolen  instant  before  taking  up 
her  lonely  walk.  The  twilight  was  long,  in  those 
longest  days,  and  she  had  a  mile  still  to  go.  There 
was  sufficient  time  that  she  might  afford  to  waste  a 
little  here,  and  she  was  weary. 

The  twigs  snapped,  and  the  dry  leaves  crackled 
in  the  wood  beyond.  Phe  heard  the  tramp  of  a 
cow  and  its  moo  calling  its  calf.  She  paid  no  at 
tention  to  the  sounds,  nor  their  nearness. 

"  Fetch  him  over  here,"  directed  an  unnatural 
bass  voice.  "  Here,  where  there 's  a  clearing.  Now, 
boys,  make  a  bonfire,  quick." 

There  ensued  a  curious,  stifled  murmur.  Some 
one  seemed  trying  vainly  to  protest.  It  was  fol 
lowed  by  two  or  three  falsely  pitched  voices,  and 
the  dragging  of  a  reluctant  burden  pulled  roughly 


50  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

through  the  underbrush.  Phe  leaned  forward, 
looking  around  the  tree-trunk  that  concealed  her 
from  view. 

In  the  heart  of  the  little  grove  was  a  depression 
almost  free  from  shrubs  and  trees.  Here  some 
half-score  men,  in  the  already  familiar  disguise, 
were  tying  Job  Ecker,  the  constable,  to  a  stout  oak. 
A  handkerchief  was  bound  across  his  mouth, 
although  his  hands  had  been  left  free.  Having 
firmly  secured  him  here  the  Indians  proceeded  to 
build  a  fire  close  by,  so  close  that  Phe,  her  cheeks 
white  with  horror,  supposed  they  meant  to  burn 
him,  and  the  victim  uttered  for  himself  a  choked 
remonstrance. 

"  Oh,  shut  up,  Job,"  cried  one  of  his  captors. 
"  Do  you  think  we  're  going  to  cook  you  ?  How 
you  act !  Throw  them  papers  in  the  fire.  That 's 
all  we  want." 

Job  shook  his  head. 

"  You  won't  ?  " 

Job  shook  his  head  again. 

"  Now  I  'm  speaking  honest  and  truly,"  said  the 
leader.  "  We  ain't  disposed  to  hurt  nobody,  and 
we  don't  mean  to  hurt  you.  But  you  got  to  burn 
them  papers." 

Job  mumbled  something  Phe  could  not  catch. 

"  Oh,  darn  your  duty  to  the  State,"  was  the 
careless  rejoinder.  "Ain't  a  man's  first  duty  to 
his  wife  and  family  ?  How  will  they  like  it  if 
you  're  brought  back  to  'em  with  your  skin  het  off 
with  boilin'  tar  ?  Say,  how  will  they  like  that  ?  " 

"How  will  Job  Ecker  like  it?"  another  ques- 


GENERAL   TRAINING  51 

tioned,  laughing.  Phoebe  recognized  that  laugh. 
It  was  Omar  Mix  who  spoke. 

At  a  nod  from  his  leader  he  set  a  kettle  on  the 
fire,  beginning  to  stir  its  odorous  contents.  "  I 
guess  on  the  whole  Job  's  the  main  person  to  con 
sider,"  he  remarked  while  thus  engaged. 

"  Will  you  do  it  ?  "  asked  the  first  speaker. 

"  Do  what  ?  "  the  constable  whispered  thickly. 

"  Burn  them  papers." 

Still  he  shook  his  head. 

"  Haul  off  his  boots,  boys.  Fill  'em  with  tar. 
Let  him  have  a  taste  of  what  we  mean." 

Omar  and  three  others  sprang  forward.  They 
knelt  before  the  wriggling  figure  and  gave  a  tug 
at  his  feet.  Job  uttered  a  terrible,  muffled  shriek. 

It  roused  in  the  frightened  girl,  cowering  in  her 
shelter,  the  spirit  of  justice  that  is,  for  its  instant, 
stronger  than  any  other  sensation  in  the  mind  of 
man.  She  forgot  her  weakness,  forgot  all  that 
went  to  make  up  the  situation,  all  save  that  this 
poor  creature,  dully  obedient  to  his  trust,  stood 
there  alone,  outnumbered.  Scrambling  to  her  feet 
she  sprang  to  the  hollow's  rim. 

"  Stop !  "  she  screamed. 

Omar  and  his  mates  fell  back.  The  others 
started,  grasping  at  their  guns. 

"  Stop !  "  Phoebe  cried  once  more. 

They  looked  whence  came  the  mysterious  inter 
ruption.  Outlined  against  a  leafy  background  was 
the  slight  and  rigid  form,  the  face  brilliant  with 
righteous  anger,  above  an  outstretched,  menacing 
arm. 


52  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"  Unbind  that  man !  "  she  commanded.  "  Let 
him  go !  If  you  do  him  harm,  if  you  touch  him 
again  to  hurt  him,  I  shall  tell  the  authorities  what 
I  know." 

The  Indians  glared  at  her,  speechless  yet  with 
surprise. 

"  I  can  swear  to  one  of  you,"  said  Phoebe. 
"  Loose  the  constable  or,  so  help  me  Heaven,  I  will 
betray  the  man  I  know." 

They  saw  that  they  were  truly  at  her  mercy. 
The  very  vagueness  of  the  accusation,  no  less  than 
the  melodramatic  quality  of  her  excitement,  inten 
sified  their  fear. 

"  Let  him  go,"  directed  the  leader  gruffly. 

Phe  stood  —  shaking  with  terror  she  stood  her 
ground  —  till  Job  Ecker  had  shaken  himself  like 
a  Newfoundland  dog,  and  trudged  off  along  the 
path.  Then  she,  likewise,  turned  and  fled. 

At  break-neck  speed  she  ran  over  the  brow  of 
the  hill,  back  on  the  way  she  had  come,  anywhere 
to  leave  those  dreadful  men,  to  find  shelter  and 
protection  from  them.  How  had  she  dared  do 
this  thing?  How  could  she  ask  what  she  had 
asked  —  prove  her  strength  against  their  own  ? 

The  more  horrid  thought  hid  its  head  for  a 
time,  although  in  the  end  it  must  be  dragged  to 
the  light.  Had  Matt  Hager  been  among  those 
others  ?  Would  he  suppose  that  he  had  been 
recognized,  that  she  threatened  to  surrender  him 
to  punishment? 

A  house  nestled  in  the  lowland  across  the  slop 
ing  fields.  It  loomed  up  to  welcome  her  as  she 


GENERAL  TRAINING  53 

passed  the  barn.  She  stumbled  at  the  porch,  she 
staggered  with  fatigue,  throwing  her  weight  against 
the  door. 

"  Let  me  in,"  she  gasped. 

Hurried  steps  sounded  across  the  floor.  A  hand 
lifted  the  latch.  The  door  was  flung  wide  open. 
Matt  Hager  stood  on  the  sill. 

"  Oh,  thank  God  !  "  cried  Phoebe. 


CHAPTER  VI 

OLD   JACOB   AT   HOME 

Self-satisfaction  is  usually  found  in  its  highest  perfection  in 
narrow  minds  and  narrow  lives.  —  PHILIP  GILBERT  HAMEKTON. 

"  You !  "  Mathice  exclaimed. 

In  the  next  instant,  at  sight  of  the  girl's  white 
face  he  added,  "  What  is  the  matter  ?  Have  you 
been  frightened  ?  " 

He  seemed,  as  Phe  realized,  to  understand  some 
thing  of  what  had  happened.  Still,  evidently,  he 
had  not  been  a  participant  in  the  attack  upon  the 
constable.  Out  of  her  deep  relief  Phe  spoke. 

"  It  was  nothing.  Yes,  I  was  frightened,  but  it 
was  at  nothing.  May  I  come  in,  and  —  and  see 
Gitty?" 

"  Come  in  ?  Of  course  you  may,"  the  young 
host  answered  eagerly,  closing  the  door  behind 
them.  "  Mother  !  Gitty  !  Here  is  company." 

From  an  outer  room,  the  buttery,  Gitty  ap 
peared  carrying  a  pitcher  of  milk,  and  followed  by 
a  meek,  shy  little  woman  whom  Phoebe  relieved 
the  embarrassment  of  the  others  by  immediately 
greeting  as  Mrs.  Hager. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  come  at  an  inconvenient 
time,"  said  she.  "I  saw  some  rough  men,  on  my 
way  home,  and  I  ran  back,  without  thinking,  to 


OLD  JACOB  AT  HOME  55 

the  nearest  house.  Please  forgive  me  for  making 
use  of  you  like  this." 

Phe  was  secretly  vexed.  They  would  be  forced 
to  invite  her  to  supper,  —  it  was  quite  supper  time, 
—  and  then  Matt  must  act  as  her  escort.  She 
resented  thrusting  herself  upon  any  one,  upon 
Mathice  Hager  of  all  persons.  But  Phoebe  was, 
as  Jemima  Lane  often  told  Henry,  "a  perfect 
little  lady,"  and  she  concealed  her  annoyance 
under  what  was  reckoned  only  proper  hesitation. 

"  It  don't  make  a  bit  of  difference,"  Gitty 
civilly  declared  in  conjunction  with  Matt's  reas 
surance,  — 

"  You  're  as  welcome  as  you  can  be.  Stay  to 
tea,  Phosbe,  and  afterwards  I'll  wait  on  you 
home." 

With  masculine  disregard  of  details,  this  plan 
struck  him  as  peculiarly  delightful.  He  paid  no 
attention  to  his  sister's  slight  reluctance  in  repeat 
ing  the  hospitable  offer.  Once  Gitty  had  par 
taken  of  a  meal  at  the  doctor's  house,  and  "  they 
live  so  nice,"  she  reflected  bitterly,  while  she  was 
removing  Phe's  bonnet,  —  that  being  an  accepted 
method  of  welcoming  a  guest.  She  wished  with 
all  her  heart  this  had  not  happened  so.  Mrs. 
Hager  also,  having  brought  to  her  husband's  home 
traditions  of  a  freer  and  finer  life,  hesitated  in  the 
entertainment  of  the  prettily  behaved  young  girl. 
She  thought  nervously  of  her  husband.  Mathice 
thought  only  of  Phe. 

While  the  little  group  still  stood  around  the 
entrance  door,  it  flew  open,  and  the  master  of  the 


56  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

house  came  in.  Phe  knew  who  he  must  be, 
although  she  had  never  seen  him  before,  and 
despite  the  lack  of  resemblance  between  the  father 
and  his  children.  He  was  a  small,  wiry  man,  with 
a  shriveled  face  and  bent  shoulders,  an  overbear 
ing  bluster  about  him  that  proclaimed  this  insig 
nificant-looking  person  a  tyrant  over  every  being 
and  every  thing  in  his  household.  He  regarded 
Phe  with  the  rough  curiosity  of  an  untrained 
nature  acknowledged  to  be  eccentric. 

"  Who  's  that?  "  he  blurted  out. 

Gitty  and  Mathice  stepped  forward  together, 
one  on  either  side  of  the  stranger.  "  This  is  Miss 
Colton,  father,"  the  young  man  began  hurriedly. 
"  Dr.  Colton's  daughter.  She  has  come  to  visit 
us." 

"I  see  she  has,"  said  old  Jacob  in  uncouth 
pleasantry,  rude  merely  because  he  was  old  Jacob 
and  a  sharp  answer  was  expected  of  him.  He 
took  a  fancy,  however,  to  Phoebe.  The  lovely  face 
and  the  gentle  air  of  good  breeding  had  their  effect 
upon  him.  He  allowed  Phe  to  lay  her  hand  in  his, 
although  he  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  it. 

"  I  fled  to  you  for  shelter,  Mr.  Hager."  The  girl 
repeated  her  story.  "  I  was  scared  by  some  men 
as  I  was  going  through  Sweet's  Woods,  and  I 
ran  to  the  nearest  house.  I  was  sure  you  would 
let  me  in." 

Gitty  and  Matt  trembled  alike  at  any  speech 
with  their  father,  uncertain  as  to  his  response. 
Phe's  tact,  on  the  other  hand,  had  guessed  that  he 
would  be  flattered  by  her  appeal.  And  he  was. 


OLD   JACOB   AT   HOME  57 

"That's  all  right,"  he  growled.  "Mother, 
ain't  we  goin'  to  have  any  supper  to-night?  " 

He  moved  away  from  the  others,  ashamed  al 
ready  of  even  so  much  politeness,  and,  in  address 
ing  his  wife,  he  flung  the  question  at  her  over  his 
shoulder.  He  seldom  looked  at  those  to  whom  he 
spoke,  but  that  was  true  of  most  of  his  associates. 
To  control  the  eyes  is  the  last  result  of  social  ease. 

"There  is  one  thing,"  Phoebe  casually  observed, 
crossing  to  the  window  ;  "  the  twilights  are  so  long 
now  that  I  can  surely  get  home  before  it  is  dark." 

She  gazed  out  on  the  stretch  of  quiet  field  and 
the  curve  of  roadway,  as  if  the  picture  were  of 
moment  to  her  and  she  had  not  turned  her  back  to 
the  kitchen  to  allow  her  hostesses  a  chance  to  work 
unwatched.  Matt  joined  her  directly,  beginning 
to  talk  with  animation,  and  endeavoring  to  divert 
her  attention  from  his  father.  Jacob  had  seated 
himself  on  the  edge  of  a  bed  in  a  curtained  recess 
of  the  kitchen,  and  proceeded  to  pull  off  his  boots, 
kicking  them  out  of  sight.  He  thereupon  strode 
forward  in  his  blue  yarn  stockings  and  viewed  the 
round  table  which  his  daughter  pulled  out  from 
the  wall,  letting  down  its  snow-white  top. 

"  Goin'  to  have  s'pawn  ?  "  he  asked  sharply. 

The  corners  of  Gitty's  mouth  drooped.  She 
did  think  they  might  have  a  decent  supper  for 
Phoebe  Colton.  But  years  ago  Maria  Hager  had 
dashed  her  hopes  too  often  against  that  iron  will 
to  have  one  left  alive.  She  made  a  deprecating 
gesture  of  entreaty. 

"  Yes,"  said  Gitty  sullenly. 


58  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

She  dared  not  spread  a  cloth  on  the  table.  She 
brought  presently  and  thumped  down  upon  it  a 
huge  pan  of  bubbling  mush.  She  set  beside  it  the 
pitcher  of  milk,  counted  out  five  pewter  spoons 
from  the  holder  in  the  cupboard,  and  called  in  a 
sulky  voice :  — 

"  S'pawn  's  ready,  Matt." 

Phoebe  felt  the  discomfort  in  the  atmosphere 
without  seeing  Matt's  frown  or  Gitty's  confusion. 
She  followed  the  young  man  to  the  table  and  took 
her  designated  chair  with  outward  unconcern. 
Mrs.  Colton  was  a  housekeeper  whom  even  Jemi 
ma  Lane,  herself  a  marvel  of  cleanliness,  declared 
"  pernickety."  Fifty  years  ago  niceness  had  not 
summoned  to  its  aid  the  present  fear  of  disease. 
"  Dirt  is  healthy  "  was  a  common  belief,  and  Phe's 
repugnance  was  not  on  the  score  of  hygiene  when 
she  saw  she  was  to  dip  her  spoon  into  the  pan  of 
suppawn  from  which  old  Jacob  ate  greedily.  But 
by  disposition  and  training  she  was  too  fastidious 
for  appetite  under  these  conditions,  and  only  a 
tender  heart,  that  could  not  by  fending  for  itself 
pain  others,  forced  her  to  swallow  some  portion  of 
the  mush.  Old  Jacob  gulped  down  his  food  with 
voracity.  Simple  as  were  his  tastes,  they  did  not 
always  require  such  fare.  His  demand  for  it  had 
been  but  one  more  manifestation  of  his  power,  a 
defiant  endeavor  toward  the  ease  he  was  far  from 
feeling.  Uncomfortable  in  the  distress  of  his 
family  and  disposed  to  punish  them  for  the  annoy 
ance,  between  his  noisy  mouthfuls  he  grunted  in 
Phe  's  direction,  — 


OLD  JACOB  AT  HOME  59 

"  Dr.  Colton  's  an  Uprenter,  ain't  he  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  know  he  is  ?  "  returned  the  girl. 

Her  clear,  quiet  tone,  her  dignity  of  resentment, 
awed  the  uncouth  man.  "  I  've  heard  folks  say 
so,"  he  replied  in  a  less  abusive  manner,  "  but  you 
can't  believe  all  you  hear." 

Phoebe  brushed  aside  this  platitude.  Matt,  who 
had  opened  his  lips  to  an  angry  retort,  closed  them 
again.  She  could  take  care  of  herself,  and  was 
much  better  left  alone. 

"  I  can't  believe  any  one,"  Phe  persisted,  "  is  in 
doubt  as  to  my  father's  opinions.  He  is  a  brave 
man,  and  speaks  them  even  when  he  is  threatened 
with  violence  for  not  holding  the  popular  belief." 

Her  voice  shook.  The  apprehension  under  which 
they  had  lived  for  the  past  few  weeks  told  on 
her,  and,  very  womanlike,  even  though  she  were 
partaking  of  their  bounty,  Phe  made  these  Down- 
renters  pay  something  in  atonement  for  her  suffer 
ing.  Matt  held  his  head  haughtily.  His  father 
grinned. 

„  "  Gimme  some  sugar  V  milk,"  said  he,  ignoring 
the  innuendo. 

Gitty  looked  sulkier  than  ever.  She  pushed 
back  her  chair,  disappeared  into  the  buttery,  and 
soon  emerged,  bearing  a  wooden  bowl  of  clotted 
milk.  It  was  sprinkled  thickly  with  shavings  of 
maple  sugar ;  and  with  it  Gitty  set  on  the  bare 
white  table  another  dish  with  an  additional  supply 
of  the  sugar.  She  then  resumed  her  seat,  down 
cast  and  sullen.  What  would  Phe  Colton  think 
of  such  a  way  of  living  ? 


60  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

Phoebe  certainly  was  not  disposed  to  plunge  her 
spoon  once  more  into  the  common  food.  Yet  she 
followed  the  example  set  her,  taking  up  with  each 
portion  a  very  little  thickened  milk,  and  add 
ing  sweetening  liberally  as  it  disappeared.  Old 
Jacob  still  ate  heartily.  Gitty  and  Matt  made  no 
further  pretense,  and  Mrs.  Hager  and  their  guest 
did  not  affect  the  gusto  of  the  head  of  the  house. 
Even  his  enjoyment,  real  or  fictitious,  presently 
ceased.  Scraping  his  chair  over  the  uncarpeted 
floor,  he  left  the  table  without  a  word  and  strode 
across  the  room.  From  the  chimney-corner  he 
called,  addressing  no  one  by  name,  — 

"  Come  here  an'  set  awhile  by  the  fire." 

"  Go  on,"  Gitty  whispered  to  Phe. 

There  is  no  conceit  so  revolting  as  that  of  a  boor 
who  deems  his  attention,  because  it  is  fickle,  a  pre 
cious  gift.  Phe  understood  that  the  coarse  old 
man  was  extending  to  her  his  notions  of  hospital 
ity.  She  wished  to  reject  what  was  so  rudely  pre 
sented,  and  yet  her  innate  kindness  was  reinforced 
by  the  imploring  faces  around  her.  She  followed 
her  host,  seating  herself  by  the  smouldering  embers 
which,  on  that  June  evening,  gave  out  but  a  plea 
sant  heat  in  the  dreary  north  room. 

"  What  an  immense  fireplace  !  "  she  exclaimed 
at  random,  thinking  she  must  contribute  to  the 
conversation. 

Matt  was  lifting  the  suppawn  kettle  from  its 
crane.  "  Is  n't  it  ?  "  said  he,  smiling  brightly  as  he 
knelt  on  the  hearth.  "  It  holds  a  four-foot  back 
log  and  a  quarter  cord  of  wood.  You  must  visit 


OLD   JACOB   AT  HOME  61 

us  on  a  winter  night  and  see  how  we  manage  to 
keep  warm." 

Phe  blushed  in  receiving  this  invitation,  al 
though  not  more  deeply  than  Matt  in  extending  it. 
"Thank  you,"  she  answered,  "  I  should  like  to." 

Perhaps  it  was  absurd  —  so  Matt  concluded  — 
to  expect  his  father  to  show  for  his  part  more  civil 
ity  than  a  not  unamiable  grunt  over  his  pipe.  Yet 
everything  depended  upon  his  fancy  for  this  girl. 
The  young  man  told  himself  passionately  that  his 
own  future  happiness  hung  upon  the  impression 
Phe  Colton  made  on  one  willfully  perverse.  So  far, 
and  on  the  whole,  it  was  undoubtedly  favorable. 
To  Phe,  but  dimly  appreciating  his  motive,  there 
was  something  piteous  in  his  propitiatory  manner. 

"Father's  father  built  this  house,"  said  Matt, 
rising  with  the  swaying  kettle  in  his  hand.  "  It 's 
got  the  best  timbers  of  any  of  the  old  places 
round  about.  Has  n't  it,  father  ?  " 

Very  few  of  us  can  resist  the  temptation  to 
talk  about  ourselves.  "  I  guess  so,"  old  Jacob  re 
sponded.  "  It  ought  to  have.  There  was  good 
work  put  into  the  frame  "  (he  moved  his  head  by 
an  inch  or  two  in  Phe's  direction).  "  I  quit 
home,"  he  went  on,  "  'fore  I  was  as  old  as  Matt. 
My  brothers  did,  too.  We  all  went  off  and  left 
the  old  folks  ;  but  I  come  back  again.  My  father 
he  cut  a  silver  dollar  into  four  quarters,  and  give 
one  to  each  of  his  boys.  There  was  four  boys. 
We  was  to  bring  it  when  he  died,  and  show  it  for 
our  share  the  property ;  and  we  all  done  it." 

"  What  a  pretty  way  of  making  a  will ! "  said 
Phe. 


62  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

Gitty  and  her  mother  had  quickly  set  their 
household  affairs  in  order.  They  now  came  for 
ward  to  take  their  seats  about  the  fire. 

"Things  were  different  then,"  old  Jacob  con 
tinued.  "  I  never  wore  a  hat  till  I  was  nine  years 
old.  No  more  did  my  brothers.  My  father  was 
county  judge,  too ;  but  he  was  poor.  We  never 
had  more  'n  one  pair  o'  shoes  a  year,  and  them  we 
wore  a-Sunday.  Week  days  we  went  barefoot. 
That  was  the  way  we  was  brought  up." 

For  the  first  time  Phe  heard  the  voice  of  her 
hostess.  Youthful  reminiscences,  with  a  new  lis 
tener,  were  so  fascinating  as  to  overcome  even  Mrs. 
Hager's  timidity. 

"  I  remember,"  she  ventured  in  a  quavering 
tone,  "  how  I  used  to  carry  my  shoes  to  town  on 
the  Sabbath,  and  sit  down  on  a  log  o'  wood,  just 
outside  the  village,  and  put  'em  on,  real  well.  My 
father  did  n't  wear  stockings,  nor  yet  my  brothers, 
and  we  were  well-to-do  at  our  house  too." 

These  revelations  caused  Gitty  to  move  uneasily 
on  her  chair.  Matt  was  more  closely  concerned  in 
preserving  his  father's  good  humor  and  noting  the 
frown  with  which  Mrs.  Hager's  interruption  was 
received.  The  instant  her  weak  voice  ceased  old 
Jacob  took  up  his  story,  a  little  hurriedly,  al 
though  otherwise  not  heeding  his  wife's  remarks. 

"Our  shoes  was  tanned  at  home.  We  had  a 
big  trough  out  there  in  the  yard,"  jerking  his  head 
to  indicate  the  direction.  "  It  was  filled  with  oak 
and  hemlock  bark  pounded  up.  There  was  just 
water  enough  to  cover  the  hides.  We  boys  used 


OLD  JACOB  AT  HOME  63 

to  soak  our  feet  in  that  water  every  night.  It 
healed  'em  and  hardened  'em." 

No  home  training,  no  goodness  of  heart,  could 
have  quite  concealed  Phe's  disgust  with  these 
squalid  details.  But  her  affection  for  Matt  Hager 
could  cover  even  his  father's  stories. 

"  And  so  you  inherited  the  homestead,  Mr. 
Hager,"  she  observed,  striving  to  divert  the  tide 
of  remembrance  into  another  channel. 

There,  at  least,  she  succeeded.  While  Maria 
Hager  and  her  children  gave  too  late  a  cry  of 
expostulation,  old  Jacob  sprang  upright  from  his 
lounging  posture. 

"  Inherit  ?  "  he  repeated  scornfully.  "  Not  an 
acre,  and  you  know  it.  All  you  Uprenters  know 
it.  What  you  're  preaching  is  that  I  ought  'o 
grin  an'  bear  it.  Don't  talk  to  me  about  inher 
iting  the  homestead  when  the  patroon  claims  every 
inch  I  plough." 

Phe  had  grown  pale  under  the  sudden  outbreak. 
Gitty's  eyes,  Matt's  eyes,  implored  her,  but  she 
could  not  keep  silence. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  answered.  "  You  are 
right  to  reprove  my  thoughtlessness.  We  are  so 
new  to  Farley  that  I  sometimes  forget  the  condi 
tions  here." 

Matt  began  an  irrelevant  sentence  which  his 
father  thrust  aside.  The  rent  grievances,  never  far 
from  his  mind,  had  been  so  violently  hurled  into 
it  as  to  do 'irreparable  damage.  "  I  suppose  your 
father  forgits  sometimes,"  he  sneered,  "  so  't  he 
pays  his  rent  to  the  agent  whenever  it  comes  due." 


64  A   DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

Phoebe  rose.     "  It  lias  n't  come  clue  yet." 

"  Don't  ye  dodge.    He  will  pay  it  when  it  does  ?  " 

"  He  is  an  Uprenter,"  Phe  answered  coldly.  "  I 
have  told  you  that." 

"  Don't  ye  dodge.  Is  he  goin'  to  pay  his  rent  ? 
That 's  what  I  ask  ye." 

"  Some  Anti-renters,  Phe,"  Mathice  interposed 
in  an  urgent  tone,  "  see  the  wisdom  on  pay-day  of 
siding  with  their  neighbors." 

Still  his  gaze  besought  her,  and  still  truth  to  her 
father  urged  her  on. 

"  We  are  not  that  sort,"  she  said.  "  What  we 
Coltons  believe,  we  stand  by.  Good-night,  Mrs. 
Hager,"  holding  out  her  hand,  "  I  must  be  going. 
Thank  you  for  your  kindness.  Good-night,  Mr. 
Hager.  Good-night,  Gitty." 

"  Come  get  your  bonnet,"  replied  the  other  girl. 

Old  Jacob  had  not  spoken. 

Mrs.  Hager  followed  them  in  trembling  haste 
into  the  best  room,  leaving  the  two  men  together. 
Mathice  took  his  hat  from  its  nail.  He  was  silent, 
his  mouth  firmly  set.  Abruptly  Jacob  pulled  him 
self  up  in  his  chair.  Bringing  his  clinched  fist 
down  in  a  blow  upon  his  thigh,  he  spoke. 

"  There  don't  no  more  Uprenters  ever  cross  that 
threshold  again.  D'  ye  hear  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Matt. 

"  Nor  you  don't  go  to  them,  you  and  Gitty.  I  '11 
see  to  that.  You  can  take  the  girl  home  to-night, 
but  there  's  the  end.  We  don't  have  nothin'  more 
to  do  with  Uprenters,  nor  they  don't  have  nothin' 
more  to  do  with  us.  I  '11  see  to  that,"  he  repeated. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   PARTING   OF  THE  WAYS 

"  This  is  this  to  thee,  and  that  to  me." 

THE  two  young  people  walked  along  the  country 
road,  in  a  silence  of  bitter  abstraction  on  Matt's 
part,  of  embarrassment  on  Phe's.  This  was  the 
first  time  in  the  girl's  experience  that  a  young  man 
had  acted  as  her  escort.  The  courtesy  was  mag 
nified,  in  that  time  and  place,  into  "  seeing  one 
home,"  which  generally  and  further  implied  "  keep 
ing  company."  She  felt  conscious,  as  if  the  wayside 
weeds  in  the  angles  of  the  rail  fence  were  full  of 
eyes  prying  upon  the  situation. 

Mathice  was  too  heavy-hearted  for  awkwardness. 
His  father 's  prejudice  had  set  the  seal  —  so  he 
told  himself  —  upon  every  hope,  for  they  now  be 
gan  and  ended  in  Phe  Colton.  He  never  dreamed 
of  defiance.  The  instinct  of  obedience,  rather  than 
a  definite  fear  of  a  will  that  had  inexorably 
wielded  his  life  so  far,  forced  him  to  surrender 
all  to  those  hard  hands  for  the  future  as  in  the 
past. 

After  a  little  his  moodiness  became  apparent  to 
Phe  as  he  stalked  beside  her,  switching  off  the 
heads  of  straggling  daisies  with  the  stick  he  flour- 


66  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

ished.  She  supposed  the  cause  for  this  ill-humor 
to  lie  in  the  gross  manners  of  old  Jacob,  to  whose 
vulgarity  she  likewise  attributed  that  rough  be 
havior  at  the  close  of  her  visit,  attaching  no  fur 
ther  importance  to  it.  From  a  pure  impulse  of 
comfort  she  suddenly  exclaimed,  — 

"  What  self-sacrificing  lives  our  forefathers  led, 
Matt !  I  never  appreciated  it  so  fully  as  when 
your  father  and  mother  were  talking  to-night.." 

"  Our  forefathers  !  "  Mathice  repeated  in  a  sort 
of  scornful  tenderness.  "  That  is  like  you  —  to 
make  it  pleasanter  for  me  by  setting  yourself  on 
the  same  level.  But  you  know,  and  I  know,  that 
your  stock  was  different.  It  is  now,  and  it  was 
then.  You  're  not  made  —  I  can't  put  it  in  the 
right  words,  but  you  're  not  made  of  the  same  kind 
of  clay." 

"  That 's  ridiculous,"  said  Phoebe. 

"  No,  it  is  n't.  It 's  sense.  Why,  my  mother's 
grandfather  —  did  you  ever  hear  how  he  began  ? 
They  went  to  housekeeping  in  a  one-room  log 
cabin,  with  a  maple  stump  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor.  They  made  that  into  a  table.  Gran'ther 
Baldwin  smoothed  the  top  with  his  axe,  and  hacked 
out  the  sides  so  that  he  and  his  wife  could  draw  up 
to  it.  He  scooped  a  hollow  like  a  butter-bowl  in 
the  centre  and  two  little  hollows  opposite.  They 
ate  .from  those,  and  used  the  big  one  for  a  dish. 
They  had  Indian  pudding  for  breakfast,  and  pota 
toes  for  dinner,  and  pudding  and  potatoes  at  night. 
Whenever  a  child  was  born  gran'ther  cut  out  an 
other  hollow  in  the  stump.  By  and  by  there  were 


THE   PARTING   OF  THE   WAYS  67 

thirteen.  Then  they  built  a  new  house,  and  there 
was  a  movable  table.  The  younger  ones  never  ate 
off  the  stump,  but  they  all  remembered  hearing 
about  it.  There  were  seventeen  children." 

Mathice  in  his  turn  had  often  listened  to  tales 
of  these  hardships  recounted  as  a  source  of  pride. 
He  was  repeating  them  now  in  a  stern  tone,  almost 
of  accusation. 

"  My  grandfather  and  grandmother  Hager,"  he 
continued,  "  when  they  were  married,  owned  be 
tween  them  nothing  but  an  axe,  a  bake-kettle,  and 
a  bed.  Whatever  else  they  wanted  they  had  to 
make." 

Phe's  eyes  met  his  in  the  soft  summer  dusk. 
"  How  splendid  !  "  she  murmured. 

"  Splendid  ?  Don't  you  see  the  meanness  and 
the  poorness  of  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  see  anything  but  that  it  was  fine  for  a 
man  and  a  woman  to  be  everything  to  each  other," 
-  Phe's  voice  quavered,  and  yet  it  was  resolute, — 
"  and  to  do  everything  for  themselves.  That  seems 
like  literally  beginning  the  world,  forming  it,  bit 
by  bit,  as  they  went  on.  I  envy  them,  Matt." 

The  very  height  of  her  spirit,  the  sentiment 
alien  to  his  prosaic  experience,  made  him  feel  the 
more  hopelessly  a  clodhopper  beside  her.  It 
choked  his  speech,  and  he  could  only  stammer,  — 

"  You  're  the  best  girl  in  the  world !  To  think 
of  your  looking  at  it  all  like  that !  " 

"  I  don't  see  any  other  way  of  looking  at  it," 
Phe  replied  rather  coldly.  She  was  already  some 
what  ashamed  of  her  enthusiasm.  Mathice  might 


68  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

consider  it  forward  —  unmaidenly.  Her  cheeks 
burned  at  the  suspicion. 

"  Where  are  we  ?  "  she  demanded,  to  turn  the 
subject.  "  I  never  came  into  Farley  from  this 
direction." 

"  It 's  the  road  over  the  hill  from  our  farm," 
Matt  answered,  thrusting  out  a  timid  hand  to  help 
her  in  its  descent.  He  failed  to  add  that  it  was 
the  longest  way  between  her  home  and  his,  and  for 
that  reason  he  had  chosen  it.  "  We  are  just  be 
hind  the  Episcopal  church.  You  will  see  it  in  a 
minute." 

He  nodded  towards  where  now  came  into  view 
a  small  square  structure,  standing  out  white  against 
the  trees.  The  long  windows  were  darkened  by 
green  Venetian  blinds  over  their  clear  glass. 
Broad  wooden  steps,  ascending  to  an  unrailed 
platform  at  the  front,  conducted  one  to  the  double 
doors.  Over  these  was  a  shuttered  belfry  crowned 
by  a  weather-vane  holding  high  an  iron  cross. 

Matt,  as  well  as  the  girl,  was  nervous  and  wished 
to  lead  their  talk  into  new  fields.  "  See  that," 
said  he,  pointing  to  the  sacred  emblem,  "  they  're 
just  like  Catholics." 

"  How  do  you  mean  like  Catholics  ?  " 

There  was  a  touch  of  amusement  in  the  query 
that  might  have  caused  a  more  astute  observer  to 
weigh  his  words.  Matt,  unheeding,  plunged  reck 
lessly  into  another  topic  of  conversation. 

"You  just  ought  to  see  how  they  go  on  at 
Christmas  time.  They  stick  up  cedar  everywhere, 
and  they  have  a  cross  in  the  pulpit.  They  read 


THE   PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS  69 

their  prayers  out  of  a  book,  and  their  dominie 
wears  a  thing  like  a  nightgown  "  — 

Here  Matt  paused.  A  burning  flush  rose  to  his 
forehead.  He  should  not  have  spoken  about 
nightgowns  to  Phe  Colton.  "  It  shows  my  bring 
ing  up,"  he  told  himself  angrily. 

Phe  laughed  outright.  There  was  a  teasing  light 
in  her  eyes.  "  But  they  behave  like  Catholics," 
said  she,  "  because  they  are  Catholics  —  Anglican, 
of  course.  I  'm  an  Episcopalian  myself." 

"  You  !  "  Matt  ejaculated  weakly. 

"  Why,  yes.  What  did  you  suppose  ?  You 
saw  I  did  n't  come  to  your  church." 

"  I  thought,"  —  his  tone  had  a  coaxing  cadence, 
as  if  he  hoped  to  persuade  her  to  own  that  she  was 
jesting,  —  "I  always  thought  you  were  a  Presby 
terian." 

"  No,"  said  Phe  sweetly.  "  We  're  all  Episco 
palians." 

Matt  was  silent.  This  last  discovery  but  served 
to  broaden  the  gulf  between  them  that  for  the  first 
time,  to-night,  he  had  seen  was  how  wide  and  how 
deep.  Phoebe  enjoyed  shocking  him  —  a  little, 
while  she  resented  his  silence.  It  implied  that  he 
was  shocked  too  much. 

"  You  behave,"  she  declared,  "  as  if  I  had  con 
fessed  to  being  a  cannibal.  Why,  Almiran  Sweet 
goes  to  the  Episcopal  Church.  He  sings  in  the 
choir." 

"  Oh,  yes.  His  father  's  vestryman."  A  jealous 
pang  darted  through  Matt's  sore  heart.  "  That 's 
all  stuff  and  nonsense  about  the  cannibals.  Do 
you  sing  in  the  choir  ?  " 


70  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

"  No,"  was  Phoebe's  demure  reply.  "  But  Allie 
does.  He  has  the  sweetest  little  voice !  Some 
times  Almiran  comes  over  to  our  house,  during  the 
week,  to  try  the  hymns  together  with  him." 

Thus  she  sought  vengeance  for  Matt's  reception 
of  her  religious  belief.  He  wondered  as  a  second 
thought  —  his  first  being  for  himself  —  if  Gitty 
knew.  Of  course  she  knew.  It  was  because  she 
was  too  deeply  wounded  for  comment  that  she  had 
never  told  her  brother  Phe  Colton  was  an  Episco 
palian.  The  weekly  "  meeting  "  was  a  well  recog 
nized  ground  for  the  promotion  of  love-affairs. 
Gitty  had  always  regarded  it  as  a  cross  that  Al 
miran  and  she  should  miss  each  other  on  Sunday. 
Of  late  her  feeling  had  been  fiercer  than  sorrow. 
She  tried  to  smother  it  with  silence,  but  the  fire 
would  not  die  down. 

Again  constraint  seized  upon  Matt  and  Phoebe, 
and  before  either  could  make  an  effort  to  break 
through  it,  the  pit-pat  of  a  child's  running  feet 
came  toward  them  down  the  road. 

"  Phe,  is  that  you  ?  "  called  her  brother's  voice, 

"  Yes,  dear." 

"  Oh,  I  'm  so  glad.  We  've  been  looking  for 
you.  Mother  was  kind  of  frightened." 

He  drew  close,  throwing  both  his  arms  around 
her  in  a  boisterous  embrace.  "  Where  have  you 
been  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Is  that  Matt  Hager  ?  " 

"  I  've  been  at  Gitty 's  to  tea,"  said  Phoebe.  "  I 
supposed  mother  would  understand  when  I  did  n't 
come  home.  Is  father  there  ?  " 

Matt  caught  the  strain  of  terror  in  the  ques- 


THE  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS  71 

tion,  and  he  felt  like  a  brute  indeed.  He  compre 
hended  with  what  reason  she  feared  for  the  doc 
tor's  safety. 

"  Yes,  he  's  all  right,"  the  little  boy  assured  her. 
"  But  Jemima 's  as  mad  as  she  can  be.  She  says 
Henry  Fisher  is  up  to  mischief." 

"  What 's  that  ?  "  Matt  inquired,  roughly  break 
ing  into  the  conversation.  "  How  could  Henry  get 
into  mischief  ?  " 

"We  haven't  found  out  yet,"  the  child  an 
swered.  "  That 's  what 's  the  matter.  Jemima 
told  father  he  did  n't  half  do  his  chores,  and  then 
he  went  off,  fast  as  he  could,  somewhere  on  the 
sly.  Father  said  it  was  very  queer.  And  I  tell 
you  Jemima  's  mad." 

Phrebe  kept  her  arm  around  her  brother,  turn 
ing  him  gently  to  walk  with  her  in  the  road.  For 
an  instant  she'  did  not  speak,  an  instant  in  which 
she  was  considering  Matt's  question  of  Allie,  and 
his  manner,  and  fitting  them  to  the  news  of  Henry's 
disappearance. 

"  I  think,"  she  said  presently,  "  that  we  shan't 
need  your  escort  any  longer,  Mathice.  I  have 
Allie,  and  he  has  me.  We  can  take  care  of  each 
other,  the  rest  of  the  way  home.  Thank  you  for 
coming  this  far  with  me." 

The  gulf  seemed  in  Matt's  fancy  to  stretch  out 
between  them  to  measureless  leagues  and  leagues. 
He  stood  here  alone,  and  Phrebe  was  hopelessly 
far  away. 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  leave  you,"  he  stammered. 
"  I  would  rather  go  on." 


72  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"  I  think  not,"  the  girl  contradicted  in  slow  de 
liberation.  "  I  think  you  have  an  engagement, 
have  you  not  ?  Possibly  it  is  with  Henry  Fisher." 

"Phe!  Don't  judge  me  like  that.  Will  you 
listen  "  - 

"No,  Mathice.  I  would  rather  not  listen  to 
anything." 

Because  the  words  hurt  her  so  cruelly  in  their 
utterance,  she  could  make  him  suffer  too.  He 
turned  on  his  heel,  proud  and  angry,  and  she  went 
her  way  with  the  child.  There  was  nothing  more 
said  between  them. 

No  sooner  was  she  out  of  sight  than  Matt  struck 
off  "  cross  lots  "  for  the  schoolhouse.  He  was 
striding  sullenly  along,  still  slashing  at  the  nod 
ding  weeds,  when  by  the  stone  wall  that  bounded 
Sweets's  sugar-bush  he  came  upon  Almiran. 

"  Helloa,"  called  the  latter  in  manifest  confu 
sion.  "  Is  that  you,  Matt  ?  I  did  n't  see  you  in 
the  dark.  Where  you  going  ?  " 

"  Where  am  I  going  ? "  Matt  repeated  with 
surly  emphasis.  "  To  the  schoolhouse,  of  course. 
Are  n't  you  ?  " 

For  he  could  see  that  his  friend's  face  was  set 
in  the  direction  of  the  Colton  place. 

Almiran  stood  very  still.  One  hand  crept  into 
a  pocket  and  drew  out  his  knife.  He  opened  it, 
groping  about  till  he  discovered  a  bit  of  wood  on 
the  ground.  As  soon  as  he  began  to  whittle  he 
found  his  tongue. 

"  I  ain't  going  to  the  schoolhouse,"  said  he 
slowly. 


THE   PARTING  OF  THE   WAYS  73 

Matt  was  careful  in  his  speech,  the  more  for 
shame  at  the  slovenliness  of  his  father's  language 
and  of  late  by  reason  of  Phe's  correctness.  In  his 
surprise,  he  fell  back  upon  old  usage. 

"  You  ain't  ?  "  he  repeated  incredulously.  "  Why 
ain't  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  I  '11  go  to  any  more  meetings," 
Almiran  answered  doggedly.  "  That 's  why." 

"No,  it  ain't  why,  neither,"  Matt  persisted. 
"  What  ever  put  such  a  notion  into  your  head  ?  Of 
course  you  '11  go." 

"  No,  I  guess  not,"  Almiran  continued.  "  I 
guess  I  won't  go  any  more." 

"  What  on  earth  's  the  reason  ?  Maybe  you  've 
turned  Uprenter." 

He  laughed  at  the  notion. 

"Yes,"  Almiran  assented.     "I  have." 

Surely  one  of  the  blessings  in  a  higher  state  of 
existence  will  be  that  of  expression.  In  this  life 
we  are  baffled,  at  every  turn,  by  the  inadequacy 
of  speech.  Matt  glared  at  his  companion,  setting 
his  jaws  together,  but  not  a  word  came  from  him. 
There  were  no  words  for  this. 

At  last,  "  You  're  a  traitor,  then  ?  "  he  hissed. 

"  That 's  what  you  call  it,"  Almiran  answered, 
cutting  his  fingers  as  well  as  his  stick.  "  I  call  it, 
coming  to  my  senses.  It  amounts  to  the  same 
thing." 

"  And  who  brought  you  to  your  senses  ?  "  sneered 
Mathice.  "  Not  your  father.  I  'm  sure  of  that." 

The  other  whitened  at  the  taunt,  though  he 
stood  to  his  point. 


74  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

"  No,"  he  conceded.  "  Pa  is  as  good  a  Down- 
renter  as  ever  he  was.  He  ain't  heard  yet  that  I 
was  wavering." 

"  I  pity  you  when  he  does,"  with  a  short  laugh. 
"  Who  turned  you,  then  ?  Tell  me  that." 

"  None  o'  your  business.     I  shan't  tell." 

A  swift  conviction  seized  upon  Matt's  mind  and 
shook  it.  "  You  need  n't  say  anything  more.  I  've 
guessed.  It  was  Dr.  Colton." 

Almiran  made  no  answer. 

A  woman  would  have  been  too  timid  to  push  the 
question.  For  a  man  anything  is  preferred  before 
suspense. 

"  Was  it  Dr.  Colton  ?  "  Matt  demanded  hoarsely. 

Almiran  dropped  his  stick  and  closed  his  knife. 
The  second's  pause  seemed  interminable. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  him  and  his  family." 

There  followed  a  silence  so  intense  that  each 
could  hear  the  other  breathe. 

"  Matt,"  clamored  Almiran  frantically,  unable 
to  endure  that  punishment,  "  what  you  goin'  to 
do?  You  goin'  to  fight  me?" 

"  Fight  you  ?  "  with  a  deep-chested  cry  of  scorn. 
"  I  would  n't  touch  a  sneak  like  you  with  the  tips 
of  my  fingers.  To  sell  your  principles  for  —  for  a 
girl!" 

Almiran  had  been  led  all  his  life  by  Matt.  He 
had  followed  the  other  in  his  enrollment  among 
the  Indians,  and  he  felt  guilt  as  well  as  shame  in 
deserting  him,  at  least.  He  strove  to  hold  Ma- 
thice's  attention,  standing  in  his  path. 

"I  tell  you  I  done  it  because  it  was  right,"  he 


THE   PARTING   OF  THE   WAYS  75 

urged  passionately.  "Matt,  won't  you  believe 
me  ?  I  wish  you  'd  listen.  The  doctor  could  con 
vince  you  too." 

"  No,  he  could  n't,"  Mathice  retorted  at  a  white 
heat  of  rage.  "  I  am  not  to  be  bought  nor  bribed. 
Don't  judge  the  whole  world  by  yourself.  There 
are  some  honest  men  left  in  it." 

He  placed  both  hands  on  the  wall,  vaulted  it, 
and  plunged  down  the  bank  on  the  other  side. 
Almiran  stood  for  a  moment  gazing  after  him 
wistfully.  At  length  he  too  turned  and,  his  head 
hanging  like  the  craven  he  had  been  unjustly 
called,  he  went  his  way  to  the  doctor's  house. 

To  Mathice,  hurrying  on  in  apparent  self-suffi 
ciency,  to  keep  his  appointment  and  bear  his 
promised  part  among  the  conspirators,  that  old  im 
agery  presented  itself  yet  again  to  his  conscious 
ness.  The  gulf  was  impassable,  and  it  divided 
him  now  from  his  oldest  friend.  Almiran  stood 
by  Phrebe  on  the  farther  shore. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A   KETTLE   OF   TAB 

A  wisdom  so  tenderly  and  so  precisely  circumspect  is  a  mor- 
tall  enemie  to  haughty  execution.  —  MONTAIGNE. 

As  Matt  neared  the  schoolhouse,  its  lights  and 
the  hum  of  conversation  told  him  that  the  Indians 
had  assembled.  Under  the  trees  close  by  were  tied 
some  dozen  horses  in  their  ridiculous  disguise.  He 
stood  on  the  step  for  a  moment  of  hesitation,  dis 
gust  at  this  folly,  hatred  of  participation  waxing 
in  his  heart.  Like  most  of  the  frolickers,  he  had 
been  drawn  into  their  schemes  from  sheer  animal 
spirits,  a  craving  for  excitement  that  found  no 
legitimate  outlet  in  the  dull  life  of  a  farm.  A 
majority  of  the  Indians  were  mere  boys,  but  there 
remained  a  few  leaders,  who  believed  they  fought 
for  their  rights,  and  who  fought  savagely,  en 
couraging  their  ranks  in  revolt. 

Naturally  Almiran's  secession  forced  Matt  to 
reflect.  Although  it  made  him  despise  any  notion 
of  withdrawal,  although  it  intensified  his  natural 
obstinacy  into  the  clinging  to  a  position  because  it 
had  been  once  held,  he  could  but  long,  in  his  youth 
ful  loneliness,  to  side  with  Phe  and  her  father, 
and  he  could  but  loathe  himself  as  he  recalled  the 
girl's  contempt  when  she  guessed  that  he  or  his 


A   KETTLE   OF  TAR  77 

comrades  had  coaxed  Henry  Fisher  to  join  their 
band. 

He  heard  Henry's  high-pitched,  agitated  voice 
inside  the  schoolroom.  He  felt,  with  the  memory 
of  Phe  Colton's  indignant  eyes  before  him,  that  he 
could  not  enter  the  building  and  engage  at  Henry's 
side  in  some  new  piece  of  nonsense.  He  hated  the 
enterprise ;  he  hated  the  Indians  and  his  part 
among  them.  As  he  lingered  on  the  doorstep, 
between  the  noisy  room  and  the  silent  night,  the 
fact  that  his  old  friend  had  deserted  the  Down- 
renters  seemed  the  only  reason  why  he  should 
hold  to  them. 

At  that  instant  of  indecision,  something  occurred 
to  fix  his  wavering  allegiance.  Demosthenes  Mix 
came  riding  down  the  road  on  his  way  home  from 
Farley.  He  pulled  up  his  horse  sharply  as  he 
spied  the  lighted  window  of  the  schoolhouse,  and 
the  blanketed  horses  under  the  trees.  Matt  fell 
back  into  the  shadow  of  the  doorway,  annoyed 
that  he  should  have  waited  here  till  he  encoun 
tered  the  patronizing  platitudes  of  Mossy  Mix. 

But  the  young  lawyer  detected  the  noticeable 
figure  on  the  threshold. 

"  Is  that  you,  Mathice  ?  "  he  asked  softly. 

"  Yes,"  in  a  sullen  growl. 

"  My  boy,"  said  Demosthenes  (he  was  three 
years  older  than  Matt),  "  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
deeply  I  regret  to  see  you  in  such  company." 

"  You  have  sharp  eyes,"  was  Matt's  careless  re 
joinder.  "  I  imagined  I  was  alone." 

"  Don't  bandy  words  with  me.    You  understand 


78  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

perfectly  to  what  I  refer.  Mathice,  this  condition 
of  things  cannot  continue.  You  and  your  mates 
are  imperiling  the  cause,  defying  the  law  and  run 
ning  daily  into  danger.  In  an  unguarded  hour, 
some  one  may  go  farther  than  he  realizes,  and 
work  irreparable  disaster.  I  warn  you  for  your 
own  good.  We,  who  are  the  men  of  sober  judg 
ment  in  this  agitation,  cannot  sympathize  with  all 
that  must  hinder  and  not  help  the  Anti-rent  ques 
tion.  You  harm  us,  you  harm  yourselves,  and  what 
the  end  may  be  we  shudder  to  contemplate." 

Through  the  pretentious  periods  Matt  saw  how 
the  speaker's  heart  was  torn  between  family  tradi 
tions  and  the  maintenance  of  his  professional  re 
spectability.  Demosthenes  was  pleading,  in  such 
terms  as  were  alone  possible  to  him,  for  his  brother, 
whose  share  in  the  uprising  he  dared  not  name. 
Omar  was  only  a  boy,  led,  as  these  two  understood, 
into  the  movement  more  by  Matt  Hager's  influence 
than  by  the  home  teachings  of  his  father.  The 
truth  in  Demosthenes's  exhortation  sharpened  its 
sting.  It  roused  all  Matt's  stubbornness,  and  pro 
duced  a  vehemence  which  was  more  than  honest. 

"  I  guess  you  might  better  jog  along  home, 
Mossy,"  he  replied,  his  fingers  on  the  latch.  "All 
you  say  can't  move  me,  and  I  don't  suppose  you 
want  to  harangue  the  crowd.  Do  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  desire  to  harangue  any  one,"  was  the 
rejoinder,  "  although  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  inform 
them  —  or  them  through  you  —  that  Tobias  Sny- 
der  is  on  the  watch  for  you  Indians  to-night ;  thus 
much  I  learned  in  town." 


A  KETTLE  OF  TAR  79 

"  Then  that  settles  it,"  declared  Matt  teasingly. 
"  We  must  go,  if  for  nothing  else,  to  have  a  row 
with  the  deputy.  But,  Mossy,  might  n't  it  be  un 
pleasant  if  the  fellows  were  to  catch  you  here? 
You  've  scolded  us  too  often  to  be  exactly  popular, 
remember.  And  I  hear  them  moving  about  inside. 
I  think  they  're  coming  out." 

He  held  the  door.  He  honestly  wished  to  pre 
vent  an  encounter  between  the  little  lawyer  and  the 
roystering  Indians.  Demosthenes  saw  the  situa 
tion  no  less  quickly  than  completely.  Giving  his 
horse  a  cut  with  his  whip,  he  called,  "  Git  ap,"  — 
even  Mossy  Mix  could  not  rise  above  the  current 
encouragement  to  speed,  —  and  disappeared  into 
the  woody  road  at  a  mad  gallop.  Matt  raised  an 
ejaculatory  laugh,  releasing  his  hold  on  the  door. 

Forthwith  out  tumbled  a  score  of  men,  disguised 
and  giggling  through  their  masks.  Henry  Fisher, 
wearing  his  new  suit  with  pride,  was  foremost 
among  them. 

"  Oh,  here  you  are! "  several  voices  saluted  Matt, 
not  forgetting,  however,  their  affected  tones,  nor 
calling  him  by  name.  "  We  were  wondering  what 
had  become  of  you.  Get  into  your  things  as  fast 
as  you  can.  There 's  fun  ahead  to-night." 

Matt  sauntered  over  to  a  hollow  pine-tree,  and 
stretched  one  arm  down  into  its  depths. 

"  What  kind  of  fun  ?  "  he  inquired,  while  he  was 
fishing  out  his  blouse. 

Henry  gave  an  important  titter.  Davit  Finck, 
the  leader,  shook  his  head  at  some  one  who  began 
to  speak. 


80  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

"  That 's  all  right,"  said  he.  "  You  '11  find  out 
in  good  time.  What  you  got  to  do  now  is  to  git 
ready  and  come  along  o'  us." 

Matt  felt  uneasy.  He  did  not  like  Henry's  fool 
ish  mirth,  nor  this  new  reticence.  "  Big  Thunder," 
said  he  aside  to  Davit,  while  he  hurriedly  dressed 
himself,  "  have  you  heard  that  Tobe  Snyder  was 
going  to  be  out  to-night?  " 

"  Tobe  Snyder  is  always  out,"  was  the  brusque 
response.  "  You  need  n't  try  to  frighten  us  off. 
We  're  bound  to  go." 

"  I  had  no  notion  of  frightening  you.     But " 

"  Shut  up,  I  say.  You  're  kind  of  apt  to  forget 
who  's  bossing  these  Injuns.  I  let  you  know  I  am. 
And  we  're  bound  to  go,  Tobe  Snyder  or  no  Tobe 
Snyder." 

Davit  Finck  lifted  his  falsetto  voice.  "  Come  on, 
boys.  Follow  your  leader.  Are  you  ready  ?  " 

There  was  a  general  response.  Those  who  owned 
horses  brought  them  forth  and  mounted  them,  ex 
changing  one  for  another  in  further  concealment  of 
their  identity.  Matt  sought  out  Omar  Mix  for  a 
companion  among  the  footmen. 

"  What 's  up  ?  "  he  asked,  attempting  an  unin 
terested  manner.  "  Did  a  horn  blow  ?  " 

"  Nope." 

"  Any  house  to  be  visited  ?  " 

"  Nope."     . 

"  There  is  n't  ?    Not  anybody  to  be  threatened  ?  " 

"  No,  I  tell  you.     Keep  still." 

He  perceived  that,  for  some  reason,  the  boy  had 
been  warned  not  to  enlighten  him  concerning  this 


A  KETTLE  OF  TAR  81 

excursion.  His  vague  fears  grew  real  and  great. 
He  set  his  jaw  doggedly.  One  powerful  hand 
reached  out  and  seized  the  other's  arm.  Matt 
gripped  it  fast. 

"  "Where  are  we  going?  "  he  whispered. 

"  Oh,  Matt,  stop !     You  hurt." 

"  I  mean  to  hurt.     Where  are  we  going  ?  " 

"  Stop,  I  tell  you.     I  '11  call  out." 

"  Not  much  you  won't ;  or  you'  11  pay  for  it  af 
terwards.  Where  are  we  going  ?  " 

Omar  stood  still.  So  did  Matt.  The  others 
swept  on  in  advance. 

"  Where  are  we  going  ?  " 

"  Confound  you  !  I  never  saw  such  a  fellow. 
If  you  must  know,  we  're  on  the  lookout  for  Dr. 
Colton." 

Matt  ground  an  exclamation  between  his  teeth. 

"  It  seems,"  began  Omar,  with  volubility,  once 
the  secret  had  been  wrested  from  him,  "  Big  Thun 
der  's  worked  up  over  what  Phoebe  done  —  did  you 
hear  ?  —  this  afternoon,  when  we  had  Job  Ecker 
in  Sweetses  Woods.  And  then  the  doctor,  he 
got  wind,  some  way  or  other,  that  You-know-who 
had  joined.  You-know-who  thinks  'twas  that 
servant  girl  o'  his'n  told  the  doctor.  Anyways,  to 
night  he  give  him  a  regular  talkin'-to  ;  called  him 
all  kind  o'  names.  It  was  as  much  as  he  could  do 
to  slip  away  from  'em  there  —  Jemimy  and  Allie 
and  the  rest  —  so  as  he  could  git  down  to  the 
schoolhouse  in  time.  You  never  see  such  works." 

"  The  hound  !  "  muttered  Mathice.  "  So  he 's 
set  Big  Thunder  up  to  this." 


82  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"  Well,  you  see,"  Omar  replied,  with  a  grin, 
"  Big  Thunder 's  been  ready,  any  time  since  the 
doctor  sassed  him  about  his  dinner  horn.  Put 
Sweetses  Woods,  this  afternoon,  on  top  o'  that, 
and  it  didn't  take  much  urgin'.  Besides,  you 
was  n't  at  the  schoolhouse  "  — 

"  No,"  said  Matt  grimly,  "  I  was  n't." 

After  a  slight  pause,  he  inquired,  "  Where  is 
this  precious  caper  going  to  be  cut  ?  " 

Again  Omar  grinned  slyly  under  his  sheepskin 
mask.  He  was  repaid  for  that  iron  clasp  on  his 
arm. 

"  You-know-who  says  the  doctor 's  going  to 
the  Mayham  place  this  evening.  It  seems  the 
Squire  's  kind  of  under  the  weather.  He  '11  have 
to  cross  Broomstick  Hill,  and  that 's  where  we  're 
goin'  to  wait  for  him." 

"  Well,  what  then  ?  " 

"  Did  n't  you  see  White  Cloud  was  carryin'  a 
kittle  ?  Some  of  the  other  fellows  have  got  the  tar." 

Omar  laughed  outright.  He  was  by  no  means 
brutal,  and  he  liked  Dr.  Colton.  But  to  his  slug 
gish  soul,  in  a  monotonous  existence,  there  was  a 
delicious  freedom  in  these  adventures  of  mystery 
and  daring  flattered  by  their  clothing  of  fine  names. 

Matt  paid  no  further  attention  to  him.  He 
was  revolving  in  his  mind  every  bearing  of  the 
situation,  and  asking  himself  what  could  be  done. 
Matters  had  progressed  too  far  for  argument 
or  entreaty  ;  so  his  interview  with  Davit  Finck 
convinced  him.  Resistance  would  be  one  man  to 
twenty.  In  circumvention  lay  the  only  hope  ;  and 


A  KETTLE  OF  TAR  83 

what,  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  could  he  invent  ? 
He  was  not  quick-witted,  nor  one  of  those  rare  per 
sons  who  act  most  wisely  upon  a  sudden  stimulus. 
He  was  bewildered,  and  yet  never  for  one  second 
did  he  yield.  With  no  notion  of  what  should  be 
done,  "  They  sha'n't  tar  and  feather  Dr.  Colton," 
he  decided. 

A  dozen  schemes  presented  themselves,  to  be  one 
after  another  rejected.  Time  was  pressing.  Pos 
sibly,  on  the  whole,  the  simplest  plan  was  the 
best. 

Omar  and  he  had  fallen  several  rods  behind  the 
last  of  those  who  walked.  The  thud  of  the  horses' 
feet  would  hide  some  sound  and  the  dark  night 
conceal  some  movement.  Matt  untied  his  own  sash, 
and  whipping  a  handkerchief  from  beneath  his 
blouse,  passed  it  with  a  dexterous  motion  over  his 
companion's  face,  binding  it  across  the  mouth.  He 
then  held  the  struggling  and  astonished  boy  with 
one  arm  while  with  the  other  he  proceeded  to  bind 
the  sash  about  Omar's  legs,  hobbling  him.  He 
lifted  him  over  the  stone  wall  at  the  roadside,  drop 
ping  him  into  the  field  beyond.  He  followed,  and 
crouching  double,  ran  in  the  direction  of  Broom 
stick  Hill. 

Dr.  Colton  was  driving  through  the  restful  quiet 
of  the  night,  thinking  of  the  patient  to  whom  he 
was  going,  thinking  of  Henry  Fisher  and  of  Je 
mima's  distress  underneath  her  anger,  thinking  of 
many  things  besides  the  peril  in  which  he  stood.  A 
figure  loomed  up  at  his  horse's  head  and  brought 
Sam  to  a  standstill. 


84  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"  Who  is  that  ?  "  asked  the  doctor  sharply. 

No  one  answered. 

"  Let  go  my  horse.  What  do  you  mean  ?  Let 
me  pass,  I  say." 

He  pulled  imperatively  at  the  reins.  But  the 
threatening  form  kept  a  firm  clasp  on  the  headstall 
while  creeping  nearer  to  him.  The  doctor  could 
see  that  it  wore  the  dress  of  an  Indian. 

"  Hush,"  Matt  cautioned  in  an  undertone. 
"  Don't  stop  to  talk.  And  get  out  of  that  wagon." 

The  doctor  stared  at  him  in  impotent  anger. 

"  Get  out,"  Matt  insisted  in  the  same  low  voice. 
"  I  'm  a  friend.  You  can  trust  me.  Get  out,  I 
tell  you  —  quick." 

For  some  reason  his  manner  was  more  convin 
cing  than  his  curt  assertion.  The  doctor  rapidly 
came  to  the  conclusion  that,  while  this  might  be  a 
trap,  it  was  quite  as  probably  a  warning,  and  in 
either  case  nothing  could  be  gained  by  resistance. 
He  slid  from  the  chaise. 

Matt  instantly  seized  him  in  his  arms  and  pulled 
him,  half  carrying,  half  leading,  back  among  the 
denser  trees  away  from  the  road.  He  heard  Sam 
start  on  again  at  his  steady  gait,  and  the  nearing 
tread  of  other  horses.  He  murmured  a  rapid  sen 
tence,  pointing,  as  he  spoke,  to  the  east. 

"  Over  there,  straight  as  the  crow  flies,  is  your 
house.  Run !  " 

He  set  the  pace,  striding  off  under  the  protec 
tion  afforded  by  the  grove.  He  saw  that  his  com 
panion  followed,  and,  after  that  reassuring  glance, 
did  not  look  back  again.  The  doctor  saved  his 


A   KETTLE   OF  TAR  85 

scant  breath  for  a  dash  over  the  rough  ground. 
He  ran  at  Matt's  heels,  nearer  to  terror  than  ever 
before  since  his  boyhood,  yet  thrilled  and  exhila 
rated  by  the  stir  and  the  secrecy.  At  last,  when 
the  foot  of  the  long,  steep  slope  had  been  reached, 
when  they  came  to  a  level  field  and  could  see  the 
chimneys  of  his  home,  he  began  to  take  fresh 
courage.  Pie  paused  at  the  bars  of  a  pasture  lot 
to  regard  his  guide  more  curiously. 

"  I  am  to  thank  you,  I  suppose,"  he  remarked 
in  his  dry,  cool  utterance,  "  but  whom  or  for  what 
I  am  uncertain.  Tell  me,  did  this  have  anything 
to  do  with  the  sheriff's  men  ?  I  passed  them  talk 
ing  to  Demosthenes  Mix  just  before  you  inter 
cepted  me.  Are  the  Indians  out  ?  " 

Matt's  panting  breath  came  a  little  swifter  for 
the  news  of  the  ambuscade.  "  So  they  've  caught 
poor  Mossy,"  said  he  with  a  chuckle,  "  instead  of 
a  band  of  law-breakers.  Yes,  doctor,  the  Indians 
are  out,  that 's  certain." 

"  Well  —  and  then  ?  I  wish  to  be  properly 
grateful.  What  have  you  done  for  me  ?  " 

"  Saved  you  from  a  pack  of  fools,"  was  the 
rough  reply.  "  Good-night." 

"  Not  so  fast  —  one  moment !  And  who  is  my 
deliverer  ?  " 

"  Another  fool.     Good-night,  I  say." 

He  was  gone  in  a  moment  more. 


CHAPTER  IX 

AT   THE    SAMP-MILL 
A  character  is  a  completely  fashioned  will.  —  J.  S.  MILL. 

WHEN  Matt  Hager  awakened  on  the  following 
morning  to  a  gradual  realization  of  what  had 
passed,  it  was  to  tell  himself,  in  his  blindness  to 
the  future,  that  this  was  the  unhappiest  day  of  his 
life,  because  it  held  no  hope  whatever. 

His  fellow  conspirators  would  repudiate  him  for 
his  action  on  Broomstick  Hill.  Phe  Colton  was 
lost  to  him,  as  were  his  two  friends,  Omar  Mix 
and  Alrniran  alike.  Renters  and  Anti-renters 
would  unite  in  scorn  over  one  whose  convictions 
were  at  war  with  his  deeds. 

He  dressed  himself,  feeling  tired  and  worn,  as 
if  the  day  lay  behind  him  rather  than  before.  But 
no  sooner  had  he  slipped  down  the  bare  stairs 
from  his  attic  room  and  let  himself  out  into  the 
world  beyond,  than  a  peace  came  to  him  from  the 
exquisite  summer  dawn.  He  squared  his  shoul 
ders,  trudging  along  the  footpath  to  the  barn,  with 
the  determination  not  to  surrender  thus  cravenly. 
He  was  still  master  of  his  fate. 

Then,  as  Matt  went  about  his  work,  groping 
through  the  dusky  stables  and  the  silent  yard, 
there  descended  upon  him  a  nervous  horror.  It 


AT  THE   SAMP-MILL  87 

was  born  of  his  morbid  thoughts  and  his  sense  of 
isolation,  and  it  grew  on  the  eerie  quiet  of  those 
strange  moments  at  daybreak.  It  assumed  a  form 
most  unfamiliar  to  the  reckless  young  fellow,  —  the 
form  of  fear. 

What  if  the  Indians  should  fall  upon  him  now, 
for  their  revenge,  while  he  was  quite  alone  and  un 
protected  ?  They  would  seek  vengeance  —  that  was 
certain.  When  would  it  come  ?  It  might  be  im 
mediately.  It  might  wait  for  weeks.  Part  of  his 
punishment  might  be  deliberately  planned  as  an 
undying  apprehension,  a  dread  for  each  moment  of 
the  day  and  night,  and  that  for  many  days.  His 
tanned  cheeks  turned  a  sickly  white.  He  grasped 
the  pitchfork  more  securely,  glancing  over  one 
shoulder  and  then  the  other.  Was  that  a  stealthy 
step,  or  was  it  the  trampling  of  a  cow  upon  the 
scattered  straw  ?  He  must  be  on  his  guard  hence 
forth,  always.  He  must  never  forget,  and  imagine 
he  was  safe. 

Matt  began  to  comprehend  what  he  and  his  fel 
lows  had  brought  upon  their  victims  by  their 
threats,  their  bravado  and  boasting.  "  And  I  have 
more  pluck  than  most  men,"  he  reflected.  "  I 
wonder  that  some  of  them  did  n't  die  of  fright. 
I  had  no  notion  that  it  was  —  like  this." 

He  was  glad  to  return  to  the  house,  —  not  so 
much  for  the  security  of  numbers  as  that  he  was 
soothed  by  the  presence  of  human  beings.  Their 
early  breakfast  was  as  usual  a  silent  meal,  but  the 
food,  no  less  than  the  companionship,  had  its  tonic 
effect  upon  Matt's  spirit.  He  rose  from  the  table 


88  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

inclined  to  jeer  at  himself  for  a  cry-baby  in  his 
former  attitude  towards  life. 

Old  Jacob  shuffled  off  to  the  bedside  to  hunt  for 
his  boots. 

"  Got  to  be  corn  ground,"  said  he.  "  Git  ready 
to  go  to  the  samp-mill  quick 's  you  can." 

The  injunction  was  apparently  thrown  at  ran 
dom,  but  Matt  caught  it,  aware  that  it  was  ad 
dressed  to  him. 

"  All  right,"  he  answered. 

He  did  not  mean  that  it  was  all  right,  for  the 
road  to  the  samp-mill  was  long  and  lonely,  and 
while  he  was  leading  Billy  from  his  stall,  the  lurk 
ing  worry  presented  itself  once  more,  —  here  was 
opportunity  for  the  Indians'  revenge.  A  ride  to 
the  nearer  mill  —  that  which  possessed  a  bolting- 
cloth  and  a  "  sopus  stone  "  —  was  a  lively  diversion 
for  a  bright  morning.  One  jogged  along  a  much- 
frequented  thoroughfare,  to  meet  at  its  end  neigh 
bors  bent  on  the  like  errand,  who  gossiped  and 
cracked  jokes,  waiting  for  their  turn.  An  expedi 
tion  to  the  samp-mill  was  another  thing.  Matt 
looked  off  across  the  fields  to  the  lane  that  he 
must  take,  and  recalled  its  chances  for  misadven 
ture.  A  spy  might  be  hanging  about  now  to  watch 
his  movements,  to  warn  the  others  that  the  hour 
had  come  to  strike.  He  experienced,  not  so  much 
terror,  as  a  sense  of  utter  loneliness. 

From  the  stable  yard  he  could  see  Almiran 
Sweet  at  work  in  the  cornfield.  He  could  see 
Gitty,  with  a  pretense  of  an  errand,  sidling  down 
in  that  direction,  carrying  her  pail  for  wild  straw- 


AT  THE   SAMP-MILL  89 

berries.  He  could  see  the  two  young  people  pre 
sently  approach  each  other  at  a  convenient  angle 
of  the  rail  fence  dividing  their  fathers'  lands.  Here 
they  settled  themselves  comfortably  for  a  long- 
drawn  talk,  leaning  their  weight  on  the  bars  be 
tween  them,  the  slat  bonnet  and  the  dilapidated 
straw  hat  bent  close  together. 

"  Well,  anyway,  Gitty  's  happy,"  thought  her 
brother. 

Almiran's  turn  had  not  yet  come,  Matt  reflected, 
as  he  swung  himself  to  the  horse's  back.  He  could 
fool  away  an  hour  with  a  girl,  nor  need  to  glance, 
first  over  one  shoulder,  then  over  the  other,  for  the 
approach  of  vengeance.  Evidently  his  desertion 
remained  so  far  unsuspected  by  the  Anti-renters. 

As  he  rode  down  the  grassy  lane  to  the  turn 
pike  Matt  heard  a  warning  voice  :  "  Hey,  there, 
stop.  What  you  got  in  them  bags  ?  " 

He  turned  sidewise,  checking  Billy's  slow  pace. 
Old  Jacob  was  running  after  him.  He  stood  still 
in  the  way  till  his  father  came  panting  to  the 
horse's  side. 

"  What  you  got  in  them  bags  ?  "  he  repeated. 

Matt  glanced  down  at  the  saddlebags,  wonder 
ing  what  was  amiss. 

"  Why,  corn,  of  course,"  he  said. 

"  Corn  ? "  Old  Jacob  punched  one  bulging 
pouch,  and  went  around  Billy  to  examine  the 
other.  "  Corn  in  both  of  'em  ?  Where  are  the 
stuns  ?  " 

Matt  understood  him  now.  As  a  child  he  had 
been  sent  to  the  mill  with  the  corn  tied  in  one  bag 


90  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

and  stones  filling  the  other  to  balance  the  weight. 
In  after  years  he  continued  to  make  this  arrange 
ment  for  himself  mechanically,  nor  was  it  until  a 
comparatively  recent  day  that  the  obvious  better 
method  presented  itself.  He  remembered  for  the 
first  time  that  as  it  chanced  he  had  not  mentioned 
his  device  to  his  father. 

"  Why,"  he  argued,  "  what 's  the  use  of  the 
stones  ?  I  have  half  the  corn  in  one  bag  and  half 
in  the  other,  and  Billy  does  n't  carry  any  dead 
weight  at  all." 

Old  Jacob  brought  his  fist  down  in  a  blow  upon 
his  thigh.  "Put  back  them  stuns,"  was  his  sole 
commentary  upon  Matt's  speech.  "  Are  you  so 
much  smarter  than  your  father  an'  your  father's 
father  before  you  ?  If  you  are,  you  're  a  darned 
sight  too  smart.  You  get  off  that  hoss  an'  pick  up 
a  bagful  o'  stuns,  an'  I  '11  stan'  by  an'  see  you  do 
it." 

He  kept  his  word.  Mathice,  his  fingers  twitch 
ing,  his  scornful  face  crimson  with  anger,  poured 
the  corn  into  one  bag,  filled  the  other  as  directed, 
and  without  a  glance  toward  his  tyrant,  seated  on 
the  fence,  remounted,  and  galloped  away.  The 
chuckle  which  pursued  him  roused  a  wild  hatred 
in  his  heart. 

At  least  the  episode  had  the  effect  of  driving  all 
other  considerations  from  his  mind.  He  was  ab 
sorbed  by  the  humiliation  of  his  attitude  —  a  slave 
to  the  caprice  of  a  coarse-minded  and  ignorant 
man.  Their  relationship  seemed  nothing  to  Matt. 
He  assured  himself  it  was  nothing ;  that  the  time 


AT  THE  SAMP-MILL  91 

came  when  parents  must  be  judged,  not  as  father 
and  mother,  but  as  man  and  woman.  He  judged 
Jacob  Hager  as  he  rode  on  to  the  mill. 

A  buckboard,  rumbling  in  the  narrow  way  be 
hind  him,  at  length  attracted  his  attention.  He 
drew  rein  to  speak  to  the  driver. 

"  Do  you  want  to  pass  ?  "  he  called. 

By  this  time  he  had  seen  that  Henry  Fisher  was 
perched  in  front.  Both  Phe  and  Allie  Colton  sat 
on  the  long  plank,  holding  each  other  up,  and 
laughing  at  the  jolts  of  their  unwieldy  vehicle. 

Matt's  first  thought  was  of  the  girl.  What 
would  be  her  greeting  ?  It  was  a  second,  but  no 
slight  consideration,  how  Henry  should  behave. 

He  appeared  conscious,  and  refused  to  meet 
Mathice's  eyes.  Nothing  more  was  betrayed  by 
his  manner,  while  his  response  was,  — 

"  Yes,  lemme  git  by,  will  ye  ?  This  is  a  good 
place  to  turn." 

Matt  obediently  drew  his  horse  to  the  road 
side,  backing  him  down  into  the  ditch.  His  gaze 
was  fixed  meanwhile  on  Phoebe's  face,  whence  it 
never  wavered.  He  was  striving  to  read  her  ex 
pression.  She  had  nodded  to  accompany  Allie's 
voluble  salutation.  The  little  boy  went  on  talking 
at  length,  giving  no  one  else  a  chance,  Matt  told 
himself.  But  Phe  looked  kind. 

The  buckboard  passed  him,  Phoebe  almost 
touching  Billy,  she  was  so  near.  Matt  bent  his 
head  and  stared  straight  into  the  girl's  eyes.  They 
met  his  steadily.  She  murmured,  and  now  she 
smiled,  "  How  can  I  thank  you  for  last  night?  " 


92  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

"  He  did  n't  recognize  me !  "  Matt  answered  in 
astonishment. 

Phe  raised  her  voice,  glancing  back  as  they 
moved  on.  "  He  could  guess,  and  I  knew ! " 

Matt  straightened  himself  in  his  saddle,  urging 
Billy  to  a  canter.  He  whistled  as  he  rode.  The 
Indians  might  torture  him.  Henry  Fisher  might 
be  their  agent  to  inform  him  of  certain  doom.  But 
Phcebe  and  he  were  friends. 

As  Matt  approached  the  samp-mill,  he  saw  be 
fore  him  Allie  and  Phe  slip  from  their  rough  seat 
and  run  down  the  bank  to  the  water's  edge.  Henry 
drove  on  under  the  shelter  of  the  shed  to  tie  his 
horse.  It  was  there  that  Matt  followed  him.  He 
wished  to  hear  the  worst.  He  believed  that  it 
could  not  be  so  bad  —  nothing  could  be  so  bad  — 
as  the  uncertainty  from  which  he  suffered. 

But  egotism  is  the  strongest  of  all  forces,  and 
Henry  had  his  private  affairs  to  consider,  with  no 
room  in  his  shallow  brain  for  Matt  as  well. 

"  Say,"  he  addressed  the  last  comer,  peering 
around  the  horse's  head,  where  he  was  tying  a 
rope.  "  Say,  don't  you  tell  on  me,  will  ye  ?  Don't 
ye  let  on  to  Phoebe  an'  Allie  where  I  was  las' 
night." 

Matt's  lip  curled  as  the  significance  of  the 
hoarse  whisper,  the  frightened  face,  forced  its  way 
through  his  own  perplexities.  "  Maybe  it 's  my 
duty  to  tell,"  he  answered  curtly.  "  I  have  n't  made 
up  my  mind." 

Henry's  fingers  trembled  in  their  hold  upon  the 
headstall.  "  No,  't  ain't  your  duty.  What  bus'ness 


AT  THE   SAMP-MILL  93 

is  it  o'  their'n  ?  An'  they  'd  be  a  tumble  time  if 
it  come  out." 

"  I  should  think  it  was  their  business,"  the  other 
declared,  "  to  find  that  they  had  a  traitor  under 
their  roof." 

He  forgot,  in  his  agitation,  the  patent  retort. 
Apparently  Henry,  also,  overlooked  the  fact  that 
he  might  say,  "  You  are  another." 

"  I  ain't  a  traitor,"  he  pleaded.  "  I  would  n't 
go  to  hurt  the  doctor,  no,  nor  none  o'  his  fam'ly  ; 
not  for  ten  dollars,  I  would  n't  do  it." 

"  You  were  ready  enough  to  help  tar  and  feather 
him  last  night,"  the  merciless  prosecutor  persisted. 
"  I  rather  guess  you  would  have  found  that  tar 
and  feathers  hurt." 

His  voice  shook,  his  cheek  blanched  at  the 
thought  those  last  words  brought  with  them.  The 
Indians'  punishments  meant,  indeed,  every  suffer 
ing,  —  pain,  indignity,  perhaps  death  itself. 

"  Why,  how  you  talk !  "  exclaimed  Henry.  "  "We 
wan't  goin'  to  tech  the  doctor.  We  would  n't  'a' 
done  a  thing  but  to  scare  him.  Big  Thunder  tol' 
me  so  himself,  before  we  started  out.  I  should  n't 
never  have  gone  a  step  if  he  had  n't  tol'  me  so." 

His  babyish  eyes,  big  with  appeal,  moved  past 
Mathice,  and  settled  upon  some  object  farther 
away. 

"  Helloa,"  he  cried.  "  Where  on  earth  did  you 
drop  from  ?  " 

Matt  looked  over  his  shoulder.  In  the  wide  en 
trance  stood  Omar  Mix. 

He  faced  about  quickly,  throwing  back  his  head, 


94  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

leveling  his  eyes  upon  the  boy,  tightening  his  hold 
on  the  stick  he  carried.  He  thought  his  hour  had 
come. 

Omar  took  a  step  nearer  him.  Henry  was  quiet, 
grinning  from  one  to  the  other. 

"  Well,"  declared  Omar,  surveying  Mathice  as 
if  for  the  first  time,  "  you  're  the  cutest  fellow  ever 
I  seen  in  my  life !  " 

Matt  made  no  reply. 

"  I  tell  you  I  was  glad  when  I  see  you  ridin'  up 
to  the  mill."  The  eager  voice  was  changing.  It  be 
gan  in  a  growl,  and  ended  in  an  uncertain  squeak. 
"  I  've  been  wishin'  I  'd  meet  you  this  mornin'.  I 
want  to  thank  ye,  Matt." 

"  What  for  ?  "  asked  Mathice. 

The  switch  in  his  fingers  snapped  beneath  their 
pressure.  His  head  whirled  with  the  suddenness 
of  the  surprise.  But  he  confronted  Omar  in  no 
outward  change  of  demeanor. 

"  For  my  part  of  it,"  the  boy  answered.     "  For 
puttin'  me   out  o'  harm's  way.     Gee !     What  if 
Mossy  had  ketched  me  'mongst  'em !    I  bet  ye  he  'd 
'a'   licked  me  good."     Omar    wagged  his  broad- 
brimmed  hat  over  the  notion.    "  But  say,  Matt,"  - 
he  came  on  another  step,  dropping  his  tone  to  a 
confidential  key,  —  "  what  we  want  to  know  is  — 
Don't  we,  Henry  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  Henry  assented  at  random. 

"  What  we  want  'o  know  is  why  Big  Thunder 
should  'a'  been  so  set  to  go  out.  He  says  you  told 
him  Tobe  Snyder  was  waitin'  there  the  other  side 
o'  Broomstick  Hill." 


AT  THE   SAMP-MILL  95 

There  was  a  second's  pause.  * 

"Why  was  he  so  set  to  go?"  Henry  echoed, 
like  a  parrot. 

Matt  began  to  see  the  situation.  His  loyalty 
was  beyond  dispute;  his  arrogance,  as  Davit  Finck 
had  hinted,  was  as  fully  understood.  The  Indians 
believed  him  to  have  acted  for  the  common  good 
in  his  rebellion  against  their  chief.  And  —  so  it 
had  happened  —  the  action  was  proved  to  have 
been  wise. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose,"  he  answered  generously,  "  he 
thought  it  was  some  story  I  had  picked  up,  —  that 
there  wasn't  any  truth  in  it.  And  he  saw  I 
wanted  to  save  the  doctor.  He  imagined  I  made 
a  mountain  out  of  a  molehill  to  get  the  doctor  off." 

"  We  suspected  as  much.  The  boys  was  talkin' 
it  over  when  we  come  back  to  the  schoolhouse. 
An'  your  gittin'  the  doctor  out  o'  the  wagon ! " 
Omar  gave  a  hearty,  youthful  laugh.  "I  swan 
but  that  was  cute.  We  're  all  proud  o'  ye,  Matt. 
Ye  done  well.  There  was  Tobe  an'  his  men  gal- 
lopin'  up  an'  hopin'  to  ketch  us  in  the  act.  An' 
there  was  poor  Mossy  that  had  run  into  him,  on  the 
pike,  not  darin'  to  move,  an'  wishin'  he  was  fur 
ther.  I  tell  ye  it  was  fun  !  "  He  heaved  a  sigh. 
"  Tall  events,  so  the  boys  say.  I  wan't  there  to 
see.  I  s'pose  it 's  for  the  best  I  wan't.  Mossy  'd 
'a'  licked  me  good." 

"  Well,  it  was  fun,"  Henry  insisted,  with  his 
meaningless  smile. 

He  had  so  little  understood  their  purpose  that 
the  sheriff's  chagrin  at  the  fruitless  meeting  of  the 


96  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

band  with  the  empty  chaise  appealed  less  to  him 
than  to  his  fellows.  Still  —  "  It  was  fun,"  he  re 
peated. 

"  Have  you  seen  any  o'  the  boys  yet  ?  "  Omar 
continued. 

"  No.     Not  yet." 

"  They  say  Tobe  was  too  disgusted  to  arrest  'em 
for  disguises.  He  might  'a'  laid  into  'em  for  that. 
An'  he  didn't  do  a  livin'  thing  but  cuss." 

"  No,"  Henry  repeated,  "  not  a  livin'  thing." 

"  Well,  Matt,  there 's  this  much  —  I  'm  sure 
we  're  all  agreed.  You  was  the  hero  of  las'  night. 
I  guess  even  Big  Thunder  acknowledges  it  now. 
Tobe  had  a  heap  o'  men  there.  You  was  all  that 
saved  us.  An'  you  saved  me  from  everything." 

"  Oh,  that 's  all  right,"  said  Matt  in  the  accepted 
formula.  "  You  make  too  much  of  what  I  did.  It 
was  only  my  duty,  as  I  saw  it.  I  'm  glad  the  boys 
were  pleased." 


CHAPTER  X 

CRAZY   DAN 

"  There  is  no  resource  where  there  is  no  understanding." 

"  HERE  comes  Matt  Hager.  Maybe  he 's  heard 
about  it." 

The  group  of  men,  lounging  on  the  platform, 
looked  up  from  their  pipes  and  their  whittling,  as 
Gitty  and  Matt  drove  up  to  Mix's.  The  girl  clam 
bered  down  from  the  wagon  without  assistance ; 
it  was  not  required,  and  no  one  thought  of  proffer 
ing  it.  After  she  had  gathered  together  her  arms- 
ful  of  barter  and  gone  on  into  the  shop,  "  to  do  a 
little  trading,"  several  of  the  bystanders  advanced 
to  the  steps,  and  stood  regarding  Matt. 

Vocabularies  were  small  and  conversation  was 
limited,  in  such  lives  as  theirs,  shut  out  from  read 
ing  or  from  travel  or  from  free  intercourse  with 
their  kind.  They  knew  what  they  wanted  to  say, 
but  it  was  painfully  hard  to  express  it.  So  they 
waited,  each  for  another,  and  looked  at  Matt. 

He  was  leaning  back  in  his  seat,  the  loose  reins 
lying  on  his  lap.  He  straightened  himself  quickly, 
eyeing  the  men. 

"  What 's  the  matter  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Anything 
gone  wrong  ?  " 


98  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

"  Then  you  have  n't  heard  about  the  row  in 
Columbia  County  ?" 

"No.     What  is  it?" 

Matt's  manner  betrayed  his  relief.  He  dreaded 
something  irretrievably  wrong  nearer  home. 

"  You  remember  the  time  they  had  there,  a 
while  back,  with  the  deputy  sheriff  over  some 
writs  he  tried  to  serve?" 

"  Yes.     Has  anything  more  come  of  it  ?  " 

Two  or  three  thereupon  began  to  speak  in  con 
cert.  Conrate  Swart's  insistent  voice  dominated, 
although  it  was  cautiously  lowered. 

"  Why,  you  know  some  of  the  Indians  lost 
their  masks  in  the  rumpus,  and  he  recognized 
them?" 

"Yes,  I  know.  They  were  arrested.  What 
then?  Has  the  trial  come  off  ?  " 

Conrate  nodded.  "  One  pleaded  guilty.  He 
was  fined  $250.  Three  have  been  sentenced  to 
State's  prison  for  two  years.  Two  others  have  n't 
been  tried  yet." 

Matt  gave  a  long,  low  whistle.  The  tenants  of 
each  patent  watched  the  others  for  example  and  en 
couragement  in  resistance  to  their  landlords.  The 
Columbia  County  affair  was  a  test  case  wherein 
the  Indians  everywhere  could  see  that  the  law 
against  the  appearance  of  disguised  and  armed 
men  might  prove  more  than  a  dead  letter. 

"  And  that  ain't  all,"  Storm  Zielle  added.  "  Dr. 
Boughton  's  been  arrested  for  murder.  'T  wan't 
murder.  'T  was  an  accident.  But  there  was  a 
man  killed,  and  they  throwed  him  into  jail." 


CRAZY  DAN  99 

"  Whew !  "  cried  Matt.  "  They  are  going  it ! 
You  mean  Dr.  Boughton  the  agitator  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  one,"  here  Conrate's  voice  dropped 
to  a  still  more  mysterious  cadence,  "  that  thought 
of  the  notion,  in  the  first  place,  of  wearing  dis 
guises.  You  remember  —  he  spoke  here  two  years 
ago." 

"  I  did  n't  hear-  him,"  Matt  replied.  "  There  's 
going  to  be  another  lecturer  here  by  and  by,  is  n't 
there  ? " 

The  several  men  all  gave  assent. 

"  I  guess  the  meeting  won't  suffer  none,"  Storm 
Zielle  remarked,  "  because  of  all  this  interference. 
I  guess  we  '11  show  'em  we  can  hold  our  own. 
Hey,  Matt?" 

"  I  guess  so,"  said  Mathice. 

"  For  the  great  day  of  His  wrath  is  come  ;  and 
who  shall  be  able  to  stand  ?  " 

It  was  a  commanding  tone,  rich  and  full  and  pen 
etrating,  in  which  the  words  rang  out  on  the  peace 
ful  summer  morning.  The  men  started,  drawing 
nearer  together. 

"  It  sounded  kind  of  terrible,  did  n't  it  ?  "  com 
mented  Casper  Enpolt,  "coming  in  like  that  on 
what  we  were  saying.  I  'd  clean  forgot  all  about 
crazy  Dan." 

"  He  ain't  been  'round  in  a  good  while,"  another 
observed.  "  Helloa,  Dan,  where  you  kept  yourself 
this  winter  ?  How  ye  vas  ?  " 

The  facetious  address  was  lost  upon  its  object. 
He  advanced  down  the  road  toward  them,  kicking 
up  the  dust  like  a  child,  and  gesticulating,  while 


100  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

his  lips  moved  as  if  he  might  be  praying.  All 
watched  the  strange  figure  in  the  cloud  he  raised, 
no  one  speaking  again  at  once.  Crazy  Dan  was  a 
tall,  gaunt  man,  with  a  weak  face  and  wandering 
eyes.  He  was  dressed  in  shabby  black,  and  car 
ried  a  basket  of  carpenter's  tools  upon  one  arm. 

"  I  always  feel,"  Mathice  exclaimed  at  length 
and  half  to  himself,  "  as  if  Dan  brought  trouble 
with  him.  I  never  like  to  see  him  in  town." 

"  Seems  to  me  you  're  gittin'  notional,"  said 
Storm  with  an  uncertain  grin.  "  What  harm 
ctfuld  crazy  Dan  do,  I  'd  admire  to  know  ?  " 

None  surely.  The  poor  creature  was  a  factor 
in  the  life  of  Farley  too  familiar  to  be  deemed 
pathetic,  although  every  one  had  heard  his  history. 
A  half  century  ago  no  community  was  without  its 
eccentric  women  who  shut  themselves  into  seclu 
sion,  and  its  men,  "  touched,"  according  to  local 
phrase,  wandering  about  the  country,  gathering  a 
precarious  alms  from  the  contemptuous  pity  of 
their  fellows.  Daniel  Pick's  slow  brain  had  re 
belled,  long  ago,  under  the  pressure  brought  to 
bear  upon  it  by  combined  religious  zeal  and  pinch 
ing  poverty,  in  a  struggle  to  fit  himself  for  the 
ministry.  Through  these  later  years  he  lived  alone 
in  a  hut  on  Baldwin  Heights,  whence  he  journeyed 
about  the  county  executing  "  odd  jobs  "  of  carpen 
try,  his  peculiar  garrulity  taking  the  form  of  quo 
tation  from  the  Scriptures. 

"  I  'm  no  fool,"  Matt  answered  Storm  Zielle 
sharply,  "  and  I  don't  suppose  he  can  hurt  me. 
But  someway  or  other  I  've  always  felt  as  if  he 


CRAZY  DAN  101 

was  unlucky.  I  used  to  think,  when  I  was  a  little 
boy,  that  the  fish  did  n't  bite  the  day  I  met  Crazy 
Dan." 

He  joined  sheepishly  in  the  general  smile  at  his 
folly. 

"  For  the  great  day  of  His  wrath  is  come  ;  and 
who  shall  be  able  to  stand  ?  " 

"  I  guess  it 's  because  he  's  always  holdin'  forth 
out  o'  those  creepy  kind  o'  sayings,"  Casper  rather 
elaborately  explained.  "  It  stands  to  reason,  Matt, 
he  can't  bring  trouble." 

"  Oh,  no,"  Matt  answered,  "  of  course  not." 

By  this  time  the  sound  of  Dan's  voice  had  at 
tracted  Josephine  Mix  from  behind  the  counter. 
She  came  to  the  doorway  and  accosted  him. 

"  I  'm  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Pick,"  she  called. 
"  We  want  a  new  shelf  put  up  in  the  store.  Walk 
right  in." 

But  Daniel  had  spied  an  audience  assembled 
on  the  platform.  He  liked  to  shout,  and  he  did 
not  like  to  work. 

"  A  word  in  season,"  he  pleaded  to  the  girl  as 
he  climbed  the  steps.  "  The  harvest  is  ripe.  I 
must  thrust  in  the  sickle,  and  reap." 

"  No,  no,"  she  urged.  "  Come  put  up  the  shelf 
first." 

He  waved  her  aside,  set  down  his  basket,  and 
went  forward  to  confront  the  group  laughing  at 
Josephine's  discomfiture  and  Daniel  Pick's  char 
acteristic  behavior. 

"  Entreat  the  younger  men  as  brethren,"  he  be 
gan  in  a  musical  chant.  "  Hearken  to  the  voice 


102  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

of  the  Lord,  for  to  Him  ye  shall  hearken.  The 
great  day  of  His  wrath  is  come,  and  who  shall  be 
able  to  stand  ?  Brethren,  do  you  know  what  them 
words  mean  ?  They  mean,"  he  shook  a  long  fore 
finger  at  the  row  of  careless  faces,  "  the  second  woe 
is  past ;  and,  behold,  the  third  woe  cometh  quickly." 

In  the  warm  sunlight  Matt  felt  a  chill  shake  his 
body.  He  told  himself  it  was  a  touch  of  ague. 

"And  what  does  that  mean,  Dan?"  a  merry 
call  challenged  the  exhorter. 

Without  turning  in  the  direction  of  the  sound, 
Matt  knew  at  once  who  had  spoken.  Almiran 
Sweet  must  have  joined  the  group  closing  in  about 
the  village  butt.  Matt  whirled  Billy  around  in  the 
road,  managing  to  turn  his  back  on  his  old  friend. 

"  Gitty,  are  n't  you  'most  ready  ?  "  he  shouted. 

Certainly  Matt  had  no  intention  of  betraying 
Almiran's  perfidy  to  the  Downrenters.  Quite  as 
certainly  he  intended  to  show  the  traitor  that  there 
could  be  no  common  ground  henceforth  between 
them.  He  was  too  unaccustomed  to  self-analysis 
to  understand  how  large  a  part  of  this  resentment 
was  based  upon  jealousy.  He  gloried  in  his  senti 
ments,  not  weighing  their  sincerity. 

At  his  peremptory  summons,  Gitty  hurried  out 
from  her  gossip  with  Josephine.  She  blushed,  in 
her  slat  bonnet,  as  she  caught  sight  of  Almiran, 
who  looked  as  conscious  at  the  unexpected  meet 
ing.  But  their  shy  smiles  were  their  only  saluta 
tion,  partly  because  there  were  so  many  amused 
spectators,  partly  because  Almiran  was  at  that 
time  uncertain  how  much  he  desired  of  Gitty's 


CRAZY   DAN  103 

society,  and  most  of  all  because  he  comprehended 
what  Mathice's  action  implied. 

His  face  grew  dull  red  with  rage.  Heedless  of 
Crazy  Dan's  personal  pleading  —  for  the  preacher 
advanced  and,  laying  his  hand  on  Almiran's  sleeve, 
was  disposed  to  beat  time  to  a  private  explanation 
of  his  texts  —  he  turned  abruptly  on  his  heel  and 
entered  Mix's  door. 

"  Get  in,"  Matt  commanded  gruffly. 

He  was  mortified  that  his  sister  should  appear 
so  woe-begone,  that  her  eyes  should  so  wistfully 
follow  the  retreating  form.  "And  all  those  fel 
lows  gaping  at  her  !  "  he  mentally  concluded. 

As  they  drove  away  both  caught  the  comment 
tossed  back  and  forth  between  voices  inadequately 
lowered. 

"  What 's  up  there  ?  I  thought  him  an'  Almiran 
was  thicker  'n  cold  molasses." 

"After  the  same  girl,  I  reckon."  And  then  a 
derisive  titter. 

Of  the  two  young  people,  equally  unhappy, 
neither  spoke  during  the  drive  home.  Not  until 
the  house  loomed  in  sight  did  either  break  the 
silence.  Then  Gitty  uttered  a  sharp  outcry. 

"What's  the  matter  now?"  Matt  demanded, 
roused  from  his  fit  of  brooding. 

He  was  disposed  to  echo  the  girl's  petulant  paren 
thesis,  "  I  think  we  had  enough !  "  when  she  went 
on,  "  There  's  Tobe  Snyder's  horse  and  buggy  at 
the  gate.  Likely  as  not  he  's  come  about  the  rent. 
Oh,  dear !  How  do  you  suppose  father  will  act  ?  " 

"  Like  a  blamed  idiot,"  was  Matt's  reply.     Set- 


104  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

ting  his  teeth,  he  added  at  once,  "  And  as  soon  as 
ever  I  get  where  Tobe  Snyder  is,  I  '11  act  like  a 
blamed  idiot  too." 

He  tapped  Billy  with  the  whip,  and  they  has 
tened  along  the  road.  Gitty  swayed  in  her  wagon 
chair,  jolted  about  by  the  rattling  pace,  her  features 
working  with  present  discomfort  and  fretfulness 
as  to  the  future. 

Women  make  admirable  martyrs  on  impulse, 
but  their  patience  in  protracted  defiance  is  apt  to 
wane. 

"  Oh,  Matt,"  she  gasped,  when  they  stopped  at 
the  gate,  "  I  've  been  thinking :  could  n't  you  give 
in  —  just  a  little  ?  Remember  what  it  means,  if 
you  don't." 

Matt  accepted  this  as  the  temptation  of  an  evil 
spirit,  more  subtle  since  his  heart  spoke  with  it. 
"  That 's  a  pretty  way  to  talk,"  he  remonstrated, 
springing  to  the  ground.  "  You  forget  there  's  a 
wrong  here  to  be  righted.  And  how  will  it  ever 
be  done  if  we  all  give  in  —  a  little  ?  The  only 
thing  for  us  to  do  is,  nobody  yield  an  inch." 

Gitty  gave  a  sort  of  moan,  no  argument,  but  a 
mere  annoyance.  She  did  not  attempt  to  speak 
further,  and  went  on  into  the  house,  shedding  a 
few  tears  on  the  bundles  she  hugged  to  her  breast. 
Matt,  meanwhile,  led  Billy  out  to  the  barn.  He 
was  on  the  alert,  but  saw  no  signs  of  the  sher 
iff's  man  until  the  stable  was  reached.  There  he 
caught  the  sound  of  loud  dispute,  and  guided  by 
it,  hastened  around  the  building  to  the  wagon- 
house. 


CRAZY   DAN  105 

On  the  grass  outside,  in  the  sunshine,  squatted 
old  Jacob.  He  had  evidently  been  surprised  at 
work  upon  a  dilapidated  hay-rigging.  It  was  the 
constable  Job  Ecker  who  faced  his  fury. 

"  Come,  come,  Jacob,"  he  was  urging  as  Matt 
came  within  earshot.  "  They  ain't  no  call  for  you 
to  use  such  language.  I  ain't  to  blame.  I  was 
sent  to  serve  the  papers,  an'  I  done  as  I  was  bid. 
I  don't  see  why  you  should  go  to  be  mad  at  me." 

The  crouching  figure  upon  the  ground  was  en 
deavoring  to  rise.  Old  Jacob  muttered  incessantly 
as  he  lifted  himself  from  his  helpless  attitude. 
The  constable  in  his  simplicity  imagined  the  sub 
sidence  of  that  storm  with  which  he  had  been 
greeted  meant  wiser  second  thoughts.  He  held 
out  a  folded  paper  in  his  broad,  red  hand. 

"  Now  we  're  all  right,"  said  he.  "  You  're  goin' 
to  behave  decent,  ain't  you  ?  " 

Instantly  it  was  a  maniac  who  stamped  and 
yelled  before  him.  "  Ton't  you  gome  near.  Ton't 
you  gome  near,"  shrieked  old  Jacob,  reverting, 
as  men  will  at  such  moments,  to  his  mother  speech. 
When  very  angry  he  was  all  Dutch.  "  If  you  gif 
me  dat  baper,  I  tear  it  into  a  t'ousand  bieces." 

"  But,  Jacob,"  argued  the  man.  "  I  got  to  give 
it  to  you.  Do  be  reas'nable.  I  ain't  no  choice." 

Old  Jacob  raised  his  right  hand  and  heavily 
smote  his  thigh. 

"  If  you  to,"  he  cried  with  a  stream  of  oaths,  "  I 
gill  you,  so  help  me  Gott." 

He  seized  the  hammer  at  his  side,  poising  it 
for  a  blow.  Matt  sprang  forward,  but  the  officer, 


106  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

alarmed  out  of  what  sense  he  owned,  waited  for 
no  reinforcement. 

He  fled  from  the  murderous  weapon,  and  the 
murderous  face  behind  it.  He  rushed  past  Ma- 
thice,  nearly  overturning  him  in  his  haste,  and 
before  old  Jacob  could  carry  his  impulse  into 
execution,  the  victim  of  his  rage  had  disappeared. 
The  two  Downrenters  were  left  alone. 


CHAPTER  XI 

"  THE   LORD   IS   IN   HIS   HOLY    TEMPLE  " 

"  Many  enter  the  Temple  through  the  gate  called  Beautiful." 

THE  church  at  Farley  which  the  Hager  family 
attended  was  situated  on  the  main  street,  at  the 
furthest  extremity  from  the  short  lane  leading  to 
the  little  white  building  where  the  few  Episcopa 
lians  worshiped.  The  road  the  Coltons  naturally 
chose,  and  that  directly  from  the  Hager  farm,  so 
diverged  that  the  two  parties  never  would  have 
met  on  Sunday  morning  had  not  Mathice  taken 
affairs  into  his  high-handed  control.  Gitty  under 
stood  when  it  was  that  he  learned  of  his  love's 
creed.  After  that  walk  home  with  Phe  Colton, 
each  week  as  they  drove  to  church,  Matt  found 
excuse,  at  the  fork  in  the  roads,  for  choosing  the 
roundabout  way  which  led  down  the  hill  by  the 
cross-crowned  church,  and  so,  through  the  lane,  to 
the  main  street.  If  nothing  else  served,  he  would 
mutter  undecidedly,  — 

"  I  guess  we  might  as  well  go  around  here," 
and  cluck  to  the  horses,  turning  their  heads  in 
the  desired  direction. 

The  girl  herself  partook  of  mixed  emotions  upon 
those  Sunday  mornings,  as  they  passed  what  had 


108  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

always  been  simply  "  his  church  "  to  her.  If  they 
failed  to  see  Phoebe,  her  heart  lightened,  despite 
Matt's  unconcealed  disappointment.  She  con 
cluded  with  a  fierce  joy,  "  Maybe  she  is  n't  com 
ing  to-day." 

If  they  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  graceful  figure 
in  its  simple  finery  so  exquisitely  becoming,  Gitty 
derived  small  good,  thereafter,  from  the  service  in 
which  she  mechanically  took  part.  Throughout 
the  long  prayer  and  the  sermon  her  fancy  was 
occupied  by  visions  of  Almiran  seated  in  the  sing 
ing  gallery,  his  eyes  wandering  to  the  face  and  form 
that,  a  little  while  before,  had  caused  Matt  to  color 
rapturously,  that  had  roused  her  reluctant  admira 
tion,  and  had  perhaps  wrung  from  her  mother's 
crushed  interests  the  startled  murmur,  — 

"  My !    How  sweet  she  looks." 

Sunday  was  no  day  of  rest  to  Gitty  Hager, 
church  no  abode  of  peace.  In  the  selfishness  of  a 
first  romance,  when  Mary  Ann  confided  gleefully 
to  her  that  not  only  her  brother  Demosthenes,  but, 
it  was  rumored,  "  teacher  "  as  well  had  become,  of 
late,  frequenters  of  the  Episcopal  church,  she  found 
comfort  in  the  swift  reflection,  that  either  of  the 
rivals  might  push  the  less  confident  Almiran  aside. 
She  hinted  this  hope  to  Mary  Ann,  for  she  pos 
sessed  the  confidante  most  young  girls  find  indis 
pensable  in  their  affairs  of  the  heart. 

Her  practical  friend  immediately  demurred,  — 

"But  you  wouldn't  want  him  back,  if  he  only 
came  because  he  couldn't  get  Phe  Colton." 

"  Yes,  I  would,"  said  Gitty. 


THE   LORD   IS   IN   HIS   HOLY  TEMPLE     109 

The  state  of  affairs  had  always  been  hardest  on 
Sunday  evening,  when,  although  no  youth  ever 
dreamed  of  escorting  a  girl  to  church,  "  seeing 
her  home "  was  a  marked  feature  of  courtship. 
Almiran  and  Gitty  went,  perforce,  their  lonely 
paths  for  years.  Now  the  question  to  Gitty,  join 
ing,  as  of  old,  some  other  unattended  young  wo 
man,  ran  ever,  Was  Almiran  with  Phoebe  ?  and  she 
dreaded  Monday  morning  at  school,  lest  some  gig 
gling  girl  might  tell  her  how,  on  the  night  before, 
her  constant  fear  came  true. 

Old  Jacob  transferred  his  religious  duties  to  his 
family,  so  that  he  knew  nothing  of  his  son's  new 
found  route  to  church.  The  son,  for  his  part,  had 
become  accustomed,  through  lifelong  submission  to 
a  conservative  environment,  to  a  meek  following 
of  custom,  however  unlikely  he  was,  otherwise,  to 
behave  as  a  meek  person.  It  dawned  slowly  upon 
him  that  another  course  lay  open.  He  pondered 
long  the  gossip  concerning  Demosthenes'  defection 
from  the  faith  of  his  fathers,  and  Mr.  Rockwell's 
frequent  absence  from  among  the  Presbyterians, 
before  it  became  apparent  that,  at  least,  he  might 
do  all  they  had  done.  One  Sunday  night,  after 
walking  to  town  with  Gitty  and  the  neighbors' 
daughters  who  often  happened  to  opportunely  cross 
Matt  Hager's  path,  he  astonished  his  sister  by 
pausing  at  the  foot  of  the  lane  called  Church 
Street,  and  announcing  coolly,  — 

"  Guess  I  '11  go  to  the  Episcopal  church  to-night." 

The  other  girls  raised  an  outcry  peevishly  shrill. 
Gitty  understood  her  brother  too  well  jfco  waste 


110  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

time  in  remonstrance.  Nor  on  the  whole  did  she 
regret  this  action. 

"  He  '11  get  ahead  of  him,  and  take  her  home 
himself,"  one  thought  told  another.  And  the  sec 
ond  thought  comprehended  perfectly  what  that 
vagueness  of  pronoun  meant. 

Mathice  left  them,  as  he  said  he  should,  in  spite 
of  the  protests  raised.  He  strode  boldly  up  the 
broad  board  walk,  in  the  deep  shadow  of  the  ma 
ples,  followed  by  reproachful  eyes  that  detected  a 
bravado  in  his  gait,  and  could  not  see  the  embar 
rassment  he  felt.  It  was  a  terrifyingly  strange 
experience  —  this  that  he  undertook. 

On  the  platform  before  the  wide  doorway  stood 
Mrs.  Colton,  Allie,  and  Phe.  The  sickly  light 
of  a  kerosene  lamp  over  the  entrance  showed  them 
to  him  and  him  to  them,  climbing  the  rough  steps, 
coming  to  their  service. 

"  Why,  Matt  Hager,"  cried  Allie,  "  is  that  you  ? 
I  thought  you  belonged  to  Dominie  Lansing's 
church.  Don't  you  ?  Almiran  told  me  you  did." 

"  Well,  I  do,"  said  Matt  grimly,  looking  at 
Phe.  "  But  are  you  going  to  drive  me  away,  if  I 
want  to  visit  you  ?  " 

She  shook  her  pretty  bonnet  that  had  brought 
many  an  ache  to  Gitty's  heart. 

"  No.  You  're  welcome,"  she  murmured  as  an 
accompaniment  to  her  mother's  cordial  speech. 

Mrs.  Colton  was  frankly  pleased  to  see  the 
young  fellow,  to  whom  she  was  grateful  for  his  in 
terference  on  Broomstick  Hill,  in  the  behalf  of  her 
husband.  Not  only  did  she  rejoice  over  any  recruit 


THE  LORD  IS  IN  HIS  HOLY  TEMPLE    111 

to  their  fold,  but  she  was  glad  of  the  opportunity 
to  pay  especial  attention  to  this  particular  stranger 
in  the  church.  Of  course  he  had  no  seat.  Not 
in  the  least  aware  what  it  implied  to  her  compan 
ions,  she  inquired,  — 

"  Won't  you  come  into  our  pew,  Mr.  Hager  ? 
There  will  be  plenty  of  room." 

"  With  you  ?  "  he  gasped,  unable  to  credit  this 
stroke  of  good  fortune. 

"Yes,  with  us,"  she  answered,  while  Phe's 
cheeks  grew  pinker  and  pinker.  "  Dr.  Colton  had 
a  call  this  evening,  and  Allie  sings  in  the  choir. 
There  is  plenty  of  room." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Matt  fervently  ;  "  I  '11  be 
happy  to  do  so." 

And  he  was  happy.  As  in  a  dream  of  bliss  he 
followed  the  two  along  the  short  and  narrow  aisle, 
while  Allie  clattered  up  the  vestibule's  approach 
to  the  gallery.  Matt  had  never  been  inside  the 
church  before,  but  at  first,  between  his  bewilder 
ment  and  his  delight,  he  saw  everything  through  a 
haze.  He  bowed  his  head,  for  a  moment,  over  his 
hat,  when  Phe  and  her  mother  knelt  lowly  for 
what  appeared  to  him  long  and  lovely  devotion. 
He  told  himself  this  was  his  lucky  night.  Mrs. 
Colton  took  the  corner  seat  as  a  matter  of  course, 
forgetting  again,  in  an  older  woman's  detachment 
from  such  follies,  all  that  it  might  be  to  her  daugh 
ter  and  their  companion  to  sit  side  by  side  in 
the  box-like  pew,  after  Matt  had  latched  the  door 
and  their  rustling  skirts  settled  themselves  for  the 
evening. 


112  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

Phe  was  as  conscious  as  the  young  man  next 
her,  although  her  confusion  took  a  pretty  form, 
and  his  showed  itself  in  a  determination  of  bear 
ing,  a  set  expression  upon  his  face. 

"  Would  you  like  me  to  find  the  places  ?  "  she 
whispered. 

Matt  had  no  idea  what  she  meant,  but  he  an 
swered  yes,  because  he  could  not  bear  to  say  no  to 
her. 

She  opened  a  prayer-book  and  handed  it  to  him. 
He  accepted  it  awkwardly,  and  held  it  between  a 
thumb  and  finger,  seeming  so  distressed  by  its 
presence  that  Phe  reached  out  for  it  again. 

"  You  can  look  over  with  me,"  she  explained  in 
the  confidential  undertone  that  was  so  enchanting. 
"  That  will  be  best,  after  all." 

Naturally,  whatever  looking  over  might  be,  it 
must  be  best  —  with  her. 

The  bell  ceased  tolling.  Late  comers  hurried 
along  the  aisles.  There  was  a  rustle  in  the  gallery, 
and  a  faint  conferring.  The  organ  sounded  forth 
in  the  voluntary. 

Matt  was  too  overcome  by  his  position  to  move 
his  head  a  hair's  breadth.  Yet  by  this  time,  gazing 
straight  in  front  of  him,  he  began  to  see  something 
besides  Phe  Colton.  Forty  or  fifty  seats  occupied 
the  centre  of  the  church,  which  had  two  side  pas 
sages  with  rows  of  single  pews  along  the  wall. 
Transverse  seats  faced  the  pulpit  at  the  end.  There 
was  no  recess  chancel.  Instead  a  high,  wide  pulpit, 
on  a  level  with  the  gallery  which  ran  along  three 
sides  of  the  building,  looked  on  a  platform  but  a 


THE   LORD   IS   IN   HIS   HOLY   TEMPLE     113 

step  above  the  ground  floor.  The  lectern  and 
prayer-desk  stood  here,  and  the  communion  table 
against  the  pulpit's  base.  There  was  a  railing 
around  the  three  sides.  "  I  don't  see  any  gate," 
Matt  mused.  "  How  is  the  dominie  going  to  get 
in?" 

He  failed  to  notice  the  narrow,  paneled  doors 
back  of  the  pulpit  and  below  to  the  right  and  left. 
Presently  one  of  these  opened.  A  white-robed 
figure  glided  through  the  passage.  He  paused  to 
close  the  door,  and  Mathice  absorbed  every  detail 
of  the  flowing  surplice,  the  long  sleeves,  the  black 
stole.  Well,  he  never  had  seen  a  man  dressed 
like  that. 

The  Reverend  Osman  Wakefield  advanced  to 
the  prayer-desk,  kneeling  while  the  soft  notes  of 
the  organ  rippled  on.  By  the  time  he  rose,  "  I 
kind  of  like  it,  too,"  Matt  had  concluded. 

He  possessed  no  understanding  of  what  it  was 
he  liked,  nor  that  the  majesty  of  even  so  bare  a 
church  had  found  its  way  to  his  soul.  The  music 
ceased.  Mr.  Wakefield  opened  the  book  in  his 
hand  and,  without  glancing  at  the  open  page,  as 
Matt  observed,  solemnly  uttered  these  words  :  — 

"The  Lord  is  in  His  Holy  Temple.  Let  all 
the  earth  keep  silence  before  Him." 

"  I  swan  I  like  it,"  thought  Matt. 

He  marked  Phe's  every  motion,  and  when,  in 
compliance  with  the  exhortation  to  confess  her 
sins,  the  girl  sank  to  her  knees,  Mathice  threw 
himself  heavily  upon  the  bench  with  her.  He 
heard,  bound  by  a  strange,  sweet  spell,  the  soft 


114  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

recital  reverently,  to  the  listening  Lord  of  heaven, 
of  her  repentance  and  her  prayer  for  pardon.  It 
was  little  to  him  that  priest  and  people  were  pray 
ing  also.  He  hearkened,  awestruck,  to  Fhosbe's 
voice  alone. 

As  they  rose  to  their  feet,  the  girl  held  out  one 
half  her  prayer-book  to  him.  Matt  clutched  at  it, 
his  eyes  seeking  the  page,  his  features  desperately 
intent.  He  read,  with  the  minutest  care,  the  sen 
tences  before  him.  Phe  answered  the  dominie,  he 
remarked,  but  that  they  all  did,  and  so  readily  ! 
She  never  looked  at  the  book.  Presently  there 
was  a  general  flutter  of  leaves  as  Mr.  Wakefield 
announced  the  psalter  for  the  day.  Still,  Phoebe, 
so  Matt  saw,  cast  but  a  glance  now  and  then  at 
the  leaf  he  turned.  She  repeated  the  sublime 
sentences  as  if  they  were  her  daily  talk. 

"  O  sing  unto  the  Lord  a  new  song :  for  He 
hath  done  marvellous  things." 

So  said  the  clergyman. 

"  With  His  own  right  hand,  and  with  His  holy 
arm  hath  He  gotten  Himself  the  victory,"  the 
girl's  clear  voice  responded. 

"  I  believe  she  's  got  the  whole  thing  by  heart," 
thought  Matt,  with  a  wild  pride  in  this  accom 
plishment. 

She  seemed  so  saintly,  so  uplifted,  as  she  stood, 
mute,  throughout  the  chanting,  or  sat  demurely, 
twirling  a  sprig  of  lemon  verbena,  her  lovely  face 
raised  in  an  attitude  of  rapt  attention. 

"  Here  endeth  the  Second  Lesson." 

"  God  be  merciful  unto  us,  and  bless  us  ;  and 


THE   LORD   IS   IN   HIS   HOLY   TEMPLE     115 

show  us  the  light  of  His  countenance,  and  be 
merciful  unto  us." 

Allie's  fresh  treble  sang  the  phrases  with  a 
pathos  in  the  innocence  of  the  childish  voice. 
Matt's  keen  eyes  softened  as  the  little  boy,  upheld 
by  an  uncertain  country  choir,  proclaimed,  — 

"  God  shall  bless  us,  and  all  the  ends  of  the 
world  shall  fear  Him." 

Thereupon  Phrebe  took  up  the  strain.  Fol 
lowing  the  clergyman's  guidance,  surrounded  by 
others  saying  the  same  words  (Matt  wondered 
what  it  was  all  about)  the  girl  declared  her  Be 
lief. 

Other  prayers  followed,  and  the  thirteenth  from 
the  Selections  of  Psalms  :  — 

"  My  grateful  soul  shall  bless  the  Lord, 

Whose  precepts  give  me  light. 
And  private  counsel  still  afford 
In  sorrow's  dismal  night." 

While  the  dragging  verses  wound  their  slow 
length  along,  Mr.  Wakefield  disappeared.  Matt 
supposed  the  service  was  finished.  He  made  no 
move,  however,  afraid  of  an  independent  action. 
And  by  and  by,  the  little  door  at  the  back  of 
the  pulpit  opened.  The  clergyman,  in  a  black 
gown,  entered  from  the  vestry  room. 

This  was  long  before  the  era  when  extempore 
speaking  should  be  deemed  a  fitting  adjunct  to 
a  liturgy  contending  against  the  impromptu  as 
unseemly.  Mr.  Wakefield  preached  a  carefully 
written,  earnest  sermon,  so  short  that  Matt  was 
taken  by  surprise  with  its  close,  but  so  dignified 


116  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

that  his  Ascription  appealed  to  the  young  critic 
as  eminently  fitting. 

"  I  do  like  that,"  he  thought. 

When  it  was  all  over,  when  the  congregation 
rose,  and  Matt  could  see  Demosthenes'  expression 
of  astonishment  and  Mr.  Rockwell's  pretense  of 
indifference,  when,  with  a  clatter,  the  pew  doors 
flew  open,  and  Phe  murmured  shyly,  "  We  must 
wait  for  Allie,"  Matt  was  still  in  a  beautiful 
dream.  But  she  was  the  heart  of  it.  He  had 
composure  sufficient  to  ask,  — 

"  Can't  he  take  your  mother  ?  May  I  wait  on 
you  home,  Phoebe  ?  " 

And,  oh,  her  face  as  she  said  yes ! 

Ah,  well,  whatever  life  doles  out  or  withholds 
from  us,  we  have  all,  some  time,  been  young. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   CRIPPLE   BUSH 
Of  all  wild  beasts,  boys  are  the  most  unmanageable.  —  PLATO. 

IN  the  conceit  of  a  narrow  mind  bred  in  a  nar 
row  environment  —  and  there  is  no  conceit  com 
parable  with  it  —  Jacob  Hager  believed  his  resist 
ance  would  satisfy  his  landlord's  agent,  and  the 
servants  of  the  law,  that  they  could  not  move 
him. 

"  I  ain't  never  yet  been  made  to  do  what  I 
didn't  want  to,"  he  blustered.  Thus  he  fancied 
he  had  heard  the  last  of  the  matter. 

Squire  Mayham  paid  no  attention  to  this  brag 
on  the  rare  occasions  when  the  two  men  met 
each  other.  But  his  sharp  old  eyes  detected  that 
Matt's  spirit  writhed  beneath  the  noisy  demon 
strations. 

"  Among  the  friends  of  a  cause,"  he  told  his 
sister-in-law,  Miss  Azubah,  "  there  are  always 
those  who  may  be  trusted  to  alienate  others  from 
it,  where  no  contrary  argument  could  prove  effec 
tive." 

The  Squire  spoke  from  personal  experience. 

"  What 's  the  matter  with  your  team,  Marcus?" 
Mrs.  Hager  inquired  one  morning. 


118  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

X 

Her  apron  rolled  over  her  bare  arms,  she  stood 
in  the  seldom-used  front  door,  regarding  the  fine 
pair  of  horses  with  such  interest  as  her  listlessness 
could  muster.  Their  manes  and  tails  had  been 
barbarously  cut. 

"  Indians,"  was  the  curt  response.  "  I  differed 
from  them,  you  see,  in  my  opinion  as  to  their 
treatment  of  the  new  doctor.  And  this  is  their 
method  of  fighting  me." 

Maria  shook  her  head  feebly.  "  It 's  terrible 
times,"  she  remarked. 

Her  husband  caught  the  weak  sentence  as  he 
came  around  the  corner  of  the  house.  "  It 's 
going  to  be  worse  yet,"  he  prophesied.  "  They'll 
find  out  the  tenants  can't  be  budged  an  inch. 
Ain't  that  so,  Squire  ?  " 

If  old  Jacob  could  be  said  to  revere  any  earthly 
person  besides  himself,  it  must  have  been  his 
wife's  rich  cousin.  He  had  consented  ungraciously 
to  attend,  and  to  allow  Mathice  to  attend,  with 
Squire  Mayham  a  local  meeting  of  the  Anti-rent 
Association.  All  three  were  members,  in  common 
with  most  men  hereabouts,  but  Jacob  Hager  did 
not  believe  in  such  gatherings.  If  he  could  have 
explained  his  repugnance,  it  amounted,  after  all, 
to  this,  that  he  found  it  hard  to  listen  patiently 
to  dogmatic  assertions.  Authoritative  speech,  on 
any  matter  whatever,  he  unconsciously  claimed  as 
his  exclusive  right. 

The  Squire,  for  his  part,  had  a  faint  hope  that 
the  counsels  of  this  conservative  body  might  pre 
vail  with  the  violent  old  man.  Something  must 


THE  CRIPPLE  BUSH  119 

be  done,  and  speedily,  in  Jacob  Hager's  affairs. 
The  wise  elder  man  understood  that  the  attitude 
of  defiance  cauld  not  be  maintained.  Private 
advice  was  wasted  on  such  a  character.  Possibly 
public  admonition  might  be  accepted. 

They  drove  to  a  neighboring  village,  reaching 
Middlefield  about  noon.  The  Squire  put  up  his 
horses  in  the  tavern  stables,  and  left  Matt  to  feed 
them  with  the  hay  and  grain  Old  Jacob  had  in 
sisted  upon  bringing,  while  the  other  two  carried 
their  dinner-box  into  the  barroom.  This  likewise 
was  in  accordance  with  the  wish  of  the  despotic 
guest.  The  Squire  desired  to  dine  at  the  public 
table.  Jacob  would  not  hear  of  such  extrava 
gance,  and  had  commanded  Gitty  to  pack  up  a 
lunch  for  them  before  they  left  the  farm.  Accord 
ingly  they  seated  themselves  at  one  of  the  tables 
provided  for  such  refreshment,  and  ate  their  cold 
meal  together,  washing  it  down  with  a  glass  of 
flip  apiece. 

"  Richest  man  in  the  county,  Squire  Mayham 
is,"  remarked  the  landlord  as  soon  as  the  door 
closed  behind  them.  "  Yet  you  don't  ketch  him 
paying  for  a  hot  dinner.  He  brought  his  own 
fodder,  too,  and  saved  a  shilling.  Well,  it  takes 
all  kinds  to  make  a  world." 

This  somewhat  barren  philosophy  was  rein 
forced  by  the  fact  that  very  few  farmers,  rich  or 
poor,  used  the  tavern  otherwise  than  as  these  had 
done.  It  must  depend  upon  stage-coach  travel  for 
the  collection  of  its  modest  revenues.  Six  cents  a 
wayfarer  was  asked  for  lodging  at  such  an  inn. 


120  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

The  town  was  crowded  to-day,  for  from  every 
point  within  reach,  men  were  pouring  into  Middle- 
field  to  attend  the  meeting.  Neither  were  these 
all  blustering  young  fellows,  ready  for  a  frolic.  It 
was  much  to  say  for  the  Downrenters  that  many 
of  them  were  industrious  and  moral,  belonging  to 
the  sober  and  conservative  class.  An  unusually 
good  audience  —  in  every  sense  good  —  filled  the 
town  hall  at  the  appointed  hour. 

Jacob  Hager  was  ill  at  ease  and,  consequently, 
sulky.  However,  he  rather  enjoyed  the  earlier 
speeches,  where  stress  was  laid  upon  certain  incon 
testable  facts:  that  throughout  what  had  been  in 
colonial  days  the  great  manors,  not  the  severest 
toil  nor  any  improvement  in  cultivation  nor  the 
growth  of  population  could  benefit  the  tenant.  He 
possessed  title  neither  to  the  house  he  built  nor 
the  fields  he  sowed.  He  could  be  driven  from  his 
home  at  any  hour  on  a  mere  technicality  of  law. 
Much  of  the  land  was  poor  or  exhausted.  Emi 
gration  to  the  cheap  and  fertile  Western  country 
had  carried  with  it  many  of  the  younger,  stronger 
men.  Those  left  behind  found  it  sometimes  diffi 
cult  to  raise  even  the  low  rent  exacted. 

One  orator  dwelt  briefly  upon  the  history  of  the 
case :  how,  in  1775,  when  the  English  government 
gave  way  to  that  of  the  State  of  New  York,  the 
feudal  character  of  land  ownership  was  changed  to 
that  which  a  simple  citizen  could  exercise.  Rens- 
selaerwyck's  new  lease  was  said  to  have  been  drawn 
by  Alexander  Hamilton,  brother-in-law  of  the  last 
patroon. 


THE  CRIPPLE  BUSH  121 

"  It  was  what  was  called  a  perpetual  lease,"  the 
speaker  explained,  "  with  the  reservation  of  an 
annual  rent  in  wheat.  About  half  the  leases  con 
tained  a  reservation,  in  case  of  sale  by  the  tenant, 
of  one  quarter  the  price,  to  be  paid  the  landlord. 
The  other  half  provided  that  in  case  of  sale  an 
extra  year's  rent  should  be  paid  to  him.  On  the 
portions  of  land  first  settled,  the  annual  rent  of 
a  farm  was  usually  ten  bushels  of  wheat  for  each 
one  hundred  acres,  with  four  fat  hens  and  one 
day's  work  with  a  team  of  horses  or  oxen.  About 
the  country  later  settled,  the  rent  was  generally 
fourteen  bushels  of  wheat  for  every  hundred 
acres." 

Old  Jacob  cared  nothing,  one  way  or  the  other, 
for  these  statements,  already  familiar,  but  he  be 
came  restive  under  the  references  that  followed  to 
the  generosity  of  their  late  landlord,  Stephen  Van 
Rensselaer,.  who  had  been  so  loath  to  press  his 
claims  and  so  prone  to  accept  any  excuse  for  their 
nonpayment  that,  at  his  death,  six  years  before, 
back  rents  amounted  to  f> 400,000,  while  his  debts 
were  for  the  same  amount.  The  speaker  further 
conceded  that  the  heirs  had  been  honorable  and 
considerate.  But  he  reverted  to  the  terms  of  Mr. 
Van  Rensselaer's  will,  which  created  a  trust  for 
the  payment  of  his  creditors,  and  provided  that  the 
proceeds  from  the  collection  of  back  rents  should 
go  in  that  direction.  They  were  the  requirements 
of  this  trust  from  which  all  the  tenants'  troubles 
hereabouts  had  come. 

The  Squire  noticed  how  closely  Matt  listened, 


122  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

and  how  Matt's  father  squirmed  about  on  his 
seat. 

"  Be  still,  will  you  ?  "  he  commanded  sternly. 

"  No,  I  won't,"  growled  old  Jacob,  "  not  to  such 
fool  talk.  What 's  the  matter  with  'em,  anyway? 
They  ain't  once  said  we  was  right." 

"  Wait,"  urged  the  Squire.  "  There  is  time  for 
that  yet." 

For  the  long  speech  began  to  touch  upon  the 
proceedings  of  the  Anti-rent  State  Convention  held 
in  the  previous  January.  It  repeated  the  resolu 
tions  then  passed,  demanding,  on  the  part  of  jus 
tice,  three  things :  a  repeal  of  the  special  privileges 
accorded  to  landlords ;  legal  authority  to  set  up 
as  a  defense  against  the  payment  of  rent  the  im 
perfection  of  the  landlords'  titles  ;  and  the  taxation 
of  rents.  There  were  a  few  words  upon  the  fair 
ness  of  these  demands,  and  further  comment  upon 
the  Association's  frequent  petitions  concerning  the 
laws  of  ejectment,  the  reservation  of  water  privi 
leges,  mines,  and  minerals,  and  the  injustice  of 
quarter  sales ;  their  request  for  a  law  against  own 
ership  of  more  than  one  thousand  acres  of  land, 
another  compelling  landlords  to  sell  to  tenants  at  a 
price  fixed  by  commissioners,  one  modifying  the 
conditions  of  leases  so  that  rents  be  payable  in 
money,  and,  lastly,  that  the  State  seize,  by  right  of 
eminent  domain,  all  leased  land,  pay  a  fair  price, 
and  dispose  of  it  fairly  to  tenants.  "  These  peti 
tions,"  the  closing  sentences  acknowledged,  "  have 
received  no  attention,  nor  have  the  resolutions 
adopted  by  our  State  Convention.  On  the  con- 


THE  CRIPPLE  BUSH  123 

trary,  last  winter's  legislature  passed  laws  aimed  at 
such  disturbances  as  have  arisen  from  the  wrongs 
of  the  Anti-renters." 

Evidently  by  a  preconcerted  arrangement  an 
other  orator  took  these  last  stated  facts  as  a  text 
on  which  to  preach  against  violence.  It  was, 
he  contended,  not  only  evil  in  itself,  but  detri 
mental  to  their  interests.  His  audience  was  appar 
ently  in  general  accord  with  this  sentiment,  a  few 
men  of  Jacob  Hager's  type  being  alone  in  their 
disapproval.  Some  one  thereupon  made  a  motion 
for  a  tax  upon  each  member  of  a  few  cents  an 
acre,  grading  it  according  to  the  land  he  held,  to 
meet  the  expenses  of  lectures  and  assemblies.  It 
was  carried  almost  unanimously,  but  the  proposi 
tion  of  an  insubordinate  spirit  that  another  assess 
ment  be  levied  for  the  cost  of  equipment  and 
maintenance  of  Indians  was  overwhelmingly  de 
feated. 

"  That  was  a  most  sensible  conclusion,  a  sensible 
conclusion."  The  Squire  'repeated  his  assertion  as 
they  elbowed  their  way  to  the  door.  His  clear-cut, 
decisive  tone  downed  even  Jacob's  shrill  demur  in 
an  unending  argument  during  all  the  time  that 
they  were  "  hitching  up  "  at  the  tavern.  It  con 
tinued  after  the  carryall  took  its  place  in  the  long 
line  of  vehicles  homeward  bound. 

Matt  bore  no  part  in  the  discussion.  His  head 
ached,  his  brain  was  dizzy  with  the  attempt  to 
adjust  and  inspect  the  facts  presented  to  him  for 
the  first  time.  He  sat  in  the  dark  beside  his 
father  while  they  rolled  along  the  well-known 


124  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

road,  and  the  Squire,  from  the  driver's  seat,  mar 
shaled  his  forces  against  old  Jacob,  still  railing 
at  the  innocuous  proceedings  of  the  Association. 

Wagons  passed  them  from  time  to  time,  or 
horsemen  clattered  by.  They  could  see  nothing  in 
the  velvety  blackness  of  the  hot,  damp  night,  but 
sound  was  carried  far,  and  the  contention  of  the 
two  men  was  plainly  audible. 

"  I  wish  to  gracious  they  'd  be  quiet,"  thought 
Matt  irritably. 

He  was  barely  conscious  of  the  feeling  before 
he  was  pitched  forward  on  his  seat.  The  carriage 
stood  still. 

"  What 's  the  matter  ?  "  squealed  his  father. 

"  What  are  you  about  ?  "  came  at  the  same  in 
stant  in  amazed  indignation  from  the  Squire. 

Matt  peered  forward  through  the  gloom.  Two 
men  on  horseback  had  stopped  them.  Two  others 
on  foot  were  climbing  into  the  front  of  the  car 
ryall. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  demanded  the  Squire. 

"  We  want  you." 

Matt  sprang  to  his  feet,  aiming  a  blow  at  the 
nearest  assailant.  He  was  immediately  seized 
from  behind  and  held.  Other  arms  grasped  his 
father  in  their  hold.  Squire  Mayham  was  lifted 
from  the  carriage. 

"  Drive  on,"  said  Matt's  captor  in  his  ear. 

The  reins  were  slipped  into  his  fingers.  The 
men,  carrying  the  Squire  among  them,  seemed  to 
fade  out  into  the  darkness.  There  was  no  trace  of 
them. 


THE  CRIPPLE   BUSH  125 

"  Git  ap,"  called  old  Jacob  quickly. 

Matt  transferred  the  lines  to  his  father.  "  If 
you  want  to  desert  him,  go  on,"  said  he.  "  I  mean 
to  see  this  thing  out." 

There  was  110  time  for  further  parley.  He 
leaped  to  the  ground,  and  the  horses  trotted  briskly 
forward. 

Despite  his  resolute  manner  he  had  no  idea  how 
to  act.  He  could  not  track  them  by  sound  on 
that  noisy  thoroughfare,  nor  could  he  see  aught  to 
guide  him.  And  while  he  hesitated,  chance  came 
to  his  aid. 

"  Where  did  they  take  him  ?  "  queried  a  voice 
at  his  elbow,  low  yet  penetrating.  "  I  can't  see 
my  hand  before  my  face." 

"  That 's  all  right,"  some  one  else  responded. 
"  You  go  straight  ahead.  White  Cloud  told  me  the 
Cripple  Bush  ;  just  beyond  the  bridge,  he  said." 

There  ensued  a  murmur  of  agreement,  then  a 
clatter  of  hoofs,  and  away.  Matt  followed  on  foot, 
rejoicing  over  this  information,  yet  asking  himself, 
as  he  ran  headlong  after  them,  how  this  thing  was 
to  end.  What  could  he  do,  or  he  and  the  Squire, 
against  a  mob  of  men  ?  But  he  went  on. 

Meanwhile  the  stout-hearted  old  gentleman  was 
not  dismayed  by  the  situation,  nor  by  the  threats 
his  captors  poured  forth  in  their  flight. 

"You  can  do  no  more  than  kill  me,"  he  an 
swered  steadily,  "  and  I  would  as  lief  die  as  live  in 
a  world  where  I  could  not  call  my  soul  my  own. 
If  a  man  cannot  speak  his  mind  in  a  free  country, 
matters  have  indeed  come  to  a  strange  pass." 


126  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"  Well,  they  have,"  was  the  Indians'  reply. 

It  appeared  that  he  was  to  be  beaten  —  this 
refined  and  delicate  old  man.  His  assailants  were 
mad  with  rage,  those  rash  speeches  to  Jacob 
Hager  capping  the  disappointment  of  the  meet 
ing  ;  and  his  coolness  served  to  further  incense 
them. 

"  But  I  shall  not  give  in,"  he  thought. 

They  tied  him  to  a  tree,  and  bared  his  back. 
Then  they  left  him,  while  they  cut  the  whips  for 
their  purpose.  All  was  hushed  and  dark  about 
them.  All  things  waited  in  the  stillness. 

Suddenly  the  clatter  of  hoofs  upon  the  bridge 
below  rattled  out  through  the  air.  Men  were 
coming  —  a  host  of  men. 

"  It 's  a  rescue !  "  shouted  an  Indian. 

"  Run !  "  called  another.     "  Run  !  " 

The  Squire  heard  that  sound,  also  the  patter  of 
their  feet  over  the  pine  needles  as  they  disap 
peared.  He  was  left  alone. 

Yet  not  for  long.  Holding  his  breath,  he  caught 
the  inquiries,  the  astonished  question  from  the 
newcomers,  who  had  no  answer  for  it.  Detecting 
their  errand  by  their  outcry,  he  did  not  betray  his 
whereabouts. 

"This  can't  be  the  place,"  said  one.  "They 
certainly  are  n't  here." 

"  Let 's  try  the  other  side  of  the  woods,"  sug 
gested  another.  And  so  they  rode  away. 

Not  all  of  them  went  on.  One  man  lingered 
behind.  At  least  he  would  try  what  a  call  might 
do. 


THE  CRIPPLE  BUSH  127 

"  Cousin  Mark !  "  He  raised  his  voice  in  the 
night.  "  Cousin  Mark,  are  you  here  ?  " 

"  Matt  Hager !     Thank  the  Lord  !  " 

He  was  half  fainting,  tied  to  his  tree.  Yet,  as 
the  young  fellow  darted  forward  in  the  direction 
of  that  quavering  answer,  the  Squire  hurriedly 
proclaimed,  "  I  did  n't  give  in  to  them,  Matt.  I 
would  not,  for  all  their  threats,  —  not  if  they  had 
lashed  me  into  ribbons." 

"  Oh,  I  knew  that,"  Matt  replied,  his  fingers 
busy  with  the  binding  cord.  "  I  knew  they  could  n't 
frighten  you  nor  make  you  yield  an  inch.  We 
Dutchmen  understand  each  other.  I  was  sure  of 

you." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  ELOQUENCE  OF  DEMOSTHENES 

"  Wont  to  do 's  awa  frae  me." 

As  a  matter  of  course,  after  that  blissful  night 
at  church,  Phe  never  entered  St.  Paul's  on  those 
summer  evenings,  without  a  furtive  survey  of  the 
board  walk  to  see  if  by  any  happy  fortune  "  he  " 
might  be  coming  thither  again,  while  Matt  glanced 
wistfully  up  the  lane  as  he  passed,  longing  once 
more  to  enter  the  path  that  led  to  Arcady.  But 
likewise  as  a  matter  of  course,  he  could  not  soon 
repeat  so  decided  a  step,  and  the  days  went  by 
without  another  meeting  there,  without  many  meet 
ings  elsewhere.  These  were  busy  times  for  the 
farmers.  School  had  closed,  so  there  was  no  more 
fear  in  Matt's  heart  of  the  rivalry  of  "  teacher," 
who  had  left  town  for  the  two  weeks'  vacation. 

Mr.  Rockwell  had  been  a  self-assertive  candidate 
for  Phe's  favor,  by  virtue  of  his  position  elbowing 
even  Demosthenes  aside.  But  now  he  was  out  of 
the  field,  the  young  lawyer  compelled  all  things  to 
work  for  him,  practicing  on  Almiran  similar  tactics 
to  those  that  had  hitherto  kept  himself  somewhat 
in  the  background.  Sunday  night  after  Sunday 
night  he  was  ready,  waiting  foremost  in  the  line 


THE  ELOQUENCE  OF  DEMOSTHENES  129 

of  youths  edging  the  platform  outside  the  church. 
Phosbe  could  not,  without  open  insult,  refuse  his 
offer  of  escort,  and  Almiraii  asked  some  other  girl 
as  a  second  choice,  or  he  stalked  gloomily  over  the 
hill  alone.  Repeated  ill  luck  worked  finally  the 
results  Gitty  had  hopefully  foreseen.  His  ardor, 
at  first  stimulated  by  obstacles,  became  by  de 
grees  impatient,  then  discouraged.  The  pendulum 
of  affection,  always  uncertain  in  its  swing,  wavered 
back  to  its  old  position.  There  was  Gitty,  faith 
ful,  fond,  a  little  insipid,  a  little  dull,  a  little  plain 
beside  Phe  Colton,  but  —  true. 

One  rainy  night,  after  Demosthenes  had  eagerly 
offered  the  shelter  of  his  covered  buggy,  and  Phe, 
with  palpable  reluctance,  accepted  its  protection, 
Almiran,  lantern  in  hand,  stumbled  around  the 
corner  of  the  church  to  the  sheds,  in  a  worse 
humor  than  was  his  wont.  He  was  cross,  beneath 
the  combined  effect  of  depressing  weather,  con 
tinued  disappointment,  and  a  headache.  He  felt 
forlorn  and  misused,  and  backed  his  horse  and 
chaise  out  into  the  summer  shower,  muttering 
queer,  innocent  expletives  to  himself.  Mrs.  Col- 
ton  had  not  braved  the  storm.  Allie  was  with  his 
father,  and  Almiran  overheard  the  doctor  remark, 
as  the  horses  took  a  step  or  two  side  by  side,  — 

"  Why,  little  boy,  neighbor  Finck  has  n't  stopped 
for  us  after  all.  Dominie  Lansing  must  have  more 
than  usual  to  say  to-night." 

This  gave  Almiran  an  inspiration.  Dominie 
Lansing  was  the  pastor  of  some  one  else  besides 
neighbor  Finck.  If  church  there  were  not  out  yet, 


130  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

why  should  he  not  confer  his  society  upon  Gitty 
Hager  ? 

So  it  came  about  that  at  a  moment  when,  be 
tween  home  cares  and  an  untoward  love  affair, 
her  spirits  were  at  their  lowest  ebb,  the  girl  had 
her  glimpse  of  happiness  in  the  sight  of  Almiran 
waiting  for  her  at  the  door. 

He  mumbled  the  customary  formula,  "  May  I 
have  the  pleasure  of  your  company  home  ?  "  And 
his  features  wore  a  generous  smile  at  the  dear  sur 
prise  his  presence  must  afford  her. 

She  answered,  "  Why,  certainly,"  before  they 
lapsed  into  every-day  language. 

"  I  've  got  the  chaise  at  the  horse-block,"  said 
he.  "  Come  on,  and  git  in." 

Gitty  followed,  sweeping  past  the  fringe  of  hu 
manity  selecting  its  mates,  her  head  high,  her  face 
brilliant,  no  longer  neglected,  no  longer  a  claim 
ant  upon  Mathice's  care,  or  a  mere  unit  among  the 
left-over  girls  who  banded  together  in  sufficient 
numbers  to  face  the  homeward  road.  Almiran 
had  crowned  her  with  the  glory  of  his  choice. 

Phe  and  Mathice  found  their  one  night  in  fairy 
land  while  the  world  about  them  was  so  sweet  that 
it  seemed  created  for  a  background  to  delight. 
Gitty's  joy  was  no  less  than  theirs  had  been,  al 
though  the  rain  beat  in  upon  her,  and  she  was 
jolted,  through  the  splashing  mud  of  an  ill-made 
road,  in  Orrin  Sweet's  old  chaise.  Nor  did  Almi 
ran  lack  his  share  of  happiness.  He  had  been  so 
unsettled,  so  buffeted  of  late,  that  the  richly  gen 
erous  love  awaiting  him  was  as  the  thought  of 


THE   ELOQUENCE   OF   DEMOSTHENES     131 

home  to  a  tired  traveler.  He  could  not  shut  from 
his  fancy  the  memory  of  Phe  Colton's  face,  nor 
the  peculiar  quality  of  her  clear  voice.  But  to 
make  the  best  of  substitutes  is  one  of  the  lessons 
oftenest  to  be  learned.  On  the  whole,  Almiran 
felt  contented  with  that  fate  which  led  him  along 
the  pike,  in  the  wet  and  dirt,  with  Gitty  Hager. 

He  was  far  better  satisfied,  certainly,  than  Phe 
Colton  driving  beside  Demosthenes  toward  home. 
She  was  never  at  her  best  with  this  pompous  young 
fellow.  She  wondered  guilelessly  that  one  so  blind 
to  his  merits  could  attract  him,  and  did  not  guess 
the  depths  of  Demosthenes'  conceit.  He  knew  his 
sister  regarded  him  with  awful  pride.  He  saw 
that  the  girls  of  his  longest  acquaintance  consid 
ered  him  an  altogether  superior  being.  Phe  Col- 
ton,  possessing,  as  he  judged,  a  higher  standpoint 
than  most  of  their  companions,  must  so  much  the 
more  surely  be  better  qualified  to  see  him  in  his 
true  light.  This  was  sound  reasoning.  The  diffi 
culty  lay  in  the  difference  between  Phe's  idea  and 
that  of  Demosthenes  concerning  his  real  self. 

He  misconstrued  as  thoroughly  Phrebe's  silence 
in  his  company,  her  loss  of  that  pretty  gayety 
which  he  had  often  marked,  from  a  distance,  in 
her  intercourse  with  the  rest  of  the  world.  To 
night  she  was  constrained  to  the  verge  of  timidity. 
Her  feminine  insight  warned  her  something  —  it 
did  not  tell  her  what  —  was  in  the  air.  She 
moved  restlessly  in  the  corner  of  the  carriage. 

Demosthenes'  monologue  —  his  usual  form  of 
conversation  —  came  abruptly  to  a  close. 


132  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"  Don't  be  afraid  of  me,"  said  he. 

"Oh,  I'm  not,"  Phe  replied.  "I  shouldn't 
think  of  being  afraid  of  you." 

His  face  fell.  No  one  quite  likes  to  be  told 
that  one  is  not  awe-inspiring.  But  then  Demos 
thenes  did  not  suppose  she  spoke  the  truth,  since 
he  was  incapable  of  supposing  it. 

"  I  intended  to  convey  the  notion,"  his  rolling 
voice  continued,  "  that  the  subject  upon  which  I 
was  about  to  enter  was  one  which  might,  at  the 
start,  alarm  you.  Yet  I  would  beg  you  to  give  it 
your  most  careful  consideration.  For  some  weeks 
I  have  been  revolving  the  matter  in  my  mind.  I 
believe  I  read  in  your  manner  indications  to  fill 
my  heart  with  hope.  You  are,  as  yet,  a  child  " 

"  Please,"  Phe  interrupted  the  flow  of  words, 
"  can't  we  talk  of  something  besides  myself  ?  " 

Demosthenes  bestowed  a  condescending  smile 
upon  the  petulance  which  went  to  prove  his  last 
assertion.  "  Not  altogether,"  he  answered.  "  We 
must  talk  of  you  and  of  myself.  For,  Miss  Col- 
ton,  I  beg  the  honor  of  your  hand." 

"  What  for  ?  "  asked  Phoebe. 

"  What  for  ?  "  The  echo  was  peevish  and  pro 
vincial.  Like  the  rest  of  the  world,  Demosthenes 
was  in  danger,  at  supreme  moments,  of  reversion 
to  the  original  type.  In  another  instant  he  had 
resumed  his  throaty  richness  of  utterance.  "  You 
evidently  misapprehend  my  meaning,"  he  contin 
ued.  "  I  am  making  an  offer  of  marriage.  May 
I  trust  that  you  regard  my  suit  with  favor  ?  " 

So  utter  was  his  trust  that  without  awaiting  the 


THE  ELOQUENCE   OF  DEMOSTHENES     133 

form  of  a  reply  he  thrust  out  an  arm,  endeavoring 
to  draw  her  towards  him.  With  a  cry  of  horror, 
Phe  struggled  from  his  clasp.  Pier  parents  had 
watched  about  their  daughter,  guarding,  in  an  un 
sophisticated  and  freer  age,  her  singular  innocence. 
She  had  not,  indeed,  foreseen  what  was  coming, 
nor  understood  it  at  first  when  it  came.  Now 
that  she  saw  his  meaning,  there  was  roused  no 
spirit  of  coquetry,  no  smallest  wish  to  prolong  the 
triumph.  She  felt  only  distress  and  alarm.  She 
wanted  to  cry,  and  she  wanted  her  mother. 

"  Oh,  no  !  Oh,  no  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  can't 
listen  to  you,  not  for  a  moment." 

"  Ah,  you  are  taken  by  surprise,"  was  Demos 
thenes'  comment.  "  Shall  I  wait  a  little  for  you 
to  become  accustomed  to  the  idea?" 

"  I  should  never  become  accustomed  to  it,"  she 
answered  tearfully,  —  "  never  in  this  world.  Please 
don't  mention  it  again." 

"  Calm  yourself,  my  dear  Phoebe,"  urged  the 
complacent  accents.  "You  are,  as  I  commenced 
by  saying,  but  a  child  as  yet.  I  can  readily  un 
derstand  how  this  proposal,  from  one  to  whom 
you  have  looked  up  with  a  degree  of  fear,  it  may 
be,  should  evoke  a  deprecating  terror.  And  I  firmly 
believe  that,  as  }'ou  familiarize  yourself  with  the 
fact  of  my  deep  attachment,  you  will  grow  calm 
beneath  it,  and  arrive  at  the  point  where  you  will 
softly  whisper,  '  Yes,  Demosthenes,'  to  my  ardent 
question." 

Phosbe  was  aghast.  The  man  actually  con 
strued  her  very  dislike  into  appreciation  of  the 
honor  he  was  conferring. 


134  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

"  No,"  she  insisted,  with  what  she  supposed  was 
intense  earnestness,  "  I  could  not  say  such  a  thing 
ever.  It  is  not  possible,  Mr.  Mix." 

That  he  did  not  understand  her,  even  then,  was 
due  in  part  to  Demosthenes'  colossal  vanity,  but 
somewhat  also  to  the  gentle  voice  and  manner 
which,  no  matter  what  her  spirit,  could  not  ex 
press  vehemence.  This  self-satisfied  lover  heark 
ened  indulgently,  and  as  soon  as  she  ceased  speak 
ing,  began  in  that  most  irritating  of  all  attitudes, 
—  the  false  assumption  of  superior  knowledge. 

"  I  see  exactly  how  it  is.  Don't  be  distressed, 
my  child.  I  comprehend  the  situation.  You  can 
not  read  your  own  heart "  — 

"  Yes,  I  can,"  Phe  declared,  almost  in  a  wail. 
"I  can  read  my  own  heart." 

Demosthenes  swept  this  aside  as  irrelevant. 
"  But  I  am  content,"  said  he  gently,  "  for  I  un 
derstand.  I  shall  wait  for  you,  Pho3be.  I  shall 
be  very  patient." 

"  You  must  not  wait ;  you  need  not  be  patient." 

"  There !  There  !  We  will  drop  the  subject  for 
the  present.  I  had  no  idea,  trust  me,  of  agitat 
ing  you  like  this.  Some  time,  in  the  not  distant 
future  —  Helloa,  my  friend,  take  care  !  I  came 
very  near  running  over  you." 

He  pulled  up  his  horse,  addressing  a  man  plod 
ding  along  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  who  had  paid 
no  attention  to  their  approach.  At  Demosthenes' 
call,  he  raised  his  drooping  head,  standing  a  trifle 
aside  that  they  might  pass  him. 

"  They  grope  in  the  dark,  without  light,"  said  he, 


THE   ELOQUENCE  OF  DEMOSTHENES     135 

"  and  He  maketh  them  to  stagger  like  a  drunken 
man." 

"  Oh,  it 's  you,  Dan  ?  " 

"  Hold  your  peace,  let  me  alone,  that  I  may 
speak,  and  let  come  on  me  what  will." 

"  Not  to-night,"  Demosthenes  responded  with 
a  laugh.  "  Choose  some  other  time  and  place  to 
speak  to  us,  if  you  please." 

He  drove  by  the  muttering  figure  at  the  wayside 
in  the  rain. 

"  Who  was  that  ?  "  Phe  asked,  rather  startled. 
"  Is  it  the  carpenter  they  call  Crazy  Dan  ?  " 

"  You  have  heard  of  him,  then  ?  Yes,  that  was 
Daniel  Pick.  Why,  how  you  are  trembling !  " 

Demosthenes  was  a  kindly  fellow.  He  was  dis 
tressed  and  perhaps  somewhat  conscience-stricken 
at  her  nervous  state.  "  I  should  have  set  my  offer 
before  her  by  degrees,"  he  reproved  himself.  "  It 
was  overwhelming." 

The  interruption  served  its  purpose  as  an  excuse 
for  one  of  his  interminable  speeches,  detailing  the 
poor  creature's  biography,  and  lasting  till  Dr.  Col- 
ton's  gate  was  reached.  Phe  was  familiar  with  the 
etiquette  of  the  situation.  She  knew  her  rudeness 
in  not  inviting  her  escort  to  stable  his  horse  and 
come  into  the  house  for  an  hour  or  two.  She  told 
herself  desperately  that  she  did  not  care.  She 
shrank  from  his  ostentatious  assistance  in  alighting 
from  the  carriage,  and  with  a  hasty  "  Good-night  " 
ran  up  the  path.  But  Demosthenes  drove  away 
smiling. 

Phe  went  around  the  building  to  the  side  porch, 


136  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

the  front  door  being  for  ceremonious  use  alone. 
Jemima  Lane  and  Henry  Fisher  had  drawn  up 
their  chairs  just  inside  the  kitchen  door,  out  of  the 
storm,  but  into  the  fresher  air.  They  made  way 
for  the  girl  to  pass  them,  and  after  she  had  gone 
on  through  the  dining-room,  Henry  remarked,  — 

"  Wan't  Phoebe  kind  o'  agitated  ?  Seemed  like 
it  to  me." 

"  She  was  scairt  out  o'  her  life,"  was  Jemima's 
contemptuous  rejoinder.  "  No  need  to  put  on  spec 
tacles  to  see  that  much." 

"  What  ud  she  be  scairt  about  ?  " 

"  Like  as  not  't  was  that  young  lawyer  Mix. 
Did  n't  you  hear  him  callin'  out  good-by  at  the 
gate  ?  If  he  hain't  been  makin'  love  to  that  poor 
child,  I  miss  my  guess." 

Henry  gasped  under  the  shock  of  this  informa 
tion.  "  Oh,  I  don't  want  Phoebe  should  marry 
Mossy  Mix,"  said  he. 

Jemima  gave  a  sniff  of  disgust.  "  I  ruther  guess 
not.  That  conceited,  egertistical  —  why,  't  would  n't 
be  nothin'  short  o'  bigamy  for  such  a  man  to  marry. 
But  Phoebe  ain't  goin'  to  have  him.  You  neenter 
worry." 

"Ain't  she?"  asked  Henry,  much  relieved. 
"  How  do  ye  know  ?  Did  she  tell  ye  ?  " 

Jemima  shook  her  head. 

"  I  don't  haf  to  be  told.  I  guess  I  ain't  so  blind 
yet  but  I  can  read  the  signs.  No,  ye  shan't  say 
another  word.  And,  land  sakes !  look  at  the 
clock  !  It 's  time  you  stopped  talkin'  about  such 
foolishness,  an'  took  yourself  off  to  bed." 


CHAPTER  XIV 
"OUT  OF  THE  WAY" 

It  is  not  the  orator's  language  that  matters,  nor  the  tone  of 
his  voice  ;  but  what  matters  is  that  he  should  have  the  same  pre 
dilections  as  the  majority.  —  DEMOSTHENES. 

As  the  men  at  Mix's  had  prophesied,  there  was 
a  large  audience  to  greet  the  Anti-rent  lecturer 
in  Farley.  It  surprised  Matt  to  see  Dr.  Colton 
with  Phoebe,  across  the  little  hall,  on  one  of  the 
front  benches.  But  the  doctor  had  some  curiosity 
concerning  these  agitators,  a  feeling  deepened  by 
the  recent  arrest  of  Dr.  Bough  ton.  He  wished, 
moreover,  to  hear  what  could  be  said  for  the  cause 
which  was  distracting  Eastern  New  York.  He  felt 
—  for  he  was  a  just  man  —  that  he  had  not  given 
the  matter  sufficient  consideration  to  warrant  his 
strong  opinions.  So  he  invited  his  daughter  to 
accompany  him  to  the  lecture,  thereby  delighting 
the  girl,  for  whom  the  world  was  divided,  at  the 
time,  into  places  where  Mathice  Hager  was  and 
where  he  was  not. 

She  knew  he  must  be  here  to-night,  and  after 
his  position  in  the  room  had  been  furtively  divined, 
Phe  tried  to  appear  unconscious  of  his  direct  gaze 
and  of  Demosthenes  Mix  throwing  smiles  toward 
her  seat  from  the  conspicuous  position  he  occupied 


138  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

near  the  platform.  The  young  lawyer  had  been 
drawn  to  the  meeting  by  much  the  same  feeling 
that  influenced  Phe.  The  sight  of  Dr.  Colton  and 
his  daughter  entering  the  building  induced  him  to 
follow  them. 

"  I  am  not  prepared,"  he  argued,  "  to  indorse  all 
that  these  men  stir  up  in  the  name  of  Anti-rent. 
Yet  I  may,  if  I  am  present,  see  an  opportunity  to 
point  out  the  evils  of  illegal  violence,  and  thus 
effect  more  good  than  by  my  attitude  in  remaining 
away." 

As  all  this  simply  meant  that  he  was  going, 
in  any  event,  but  preferred  to  go  with  a  quiet 
conscience,  it  was  not  strange  that  Demosthenes' 
complacent  expression  confronted  the  speaker,  or 
observed  the  restlessness,  most  flattering  in  his 
opinion,  with  which  Phe  Colton  received  his  glances. 

The  lecturer  was  an  ardent  young  fellow,  half 
educated,  quick,  but  shallow  and  no  logician. 

"  He  is  afflicted  with  a  rush  of  words  to  the 
brain,"  the  doctor  criticised  under  his  breath.  "If 
only  his  were  innocent  vehemence,  I  should  be 
rather  amused  to  watch  whither  it  led  him." 

"  But  it  is  n't  innocent,"  sighed  Phe. 

With  a  show  of  magnanimity,  chances  were  given 
for  questioning.  Demosthenes  improved  these,  to 
exploit  himself  before  his  townspeople  in  general, 
and  his  lady-love  in  particular.  His  honest  desire 
was,  no  less,  to  enlighten  many  Downrenters  who 
acted  blindly  in  regard  to  the  legal  aspects  of  the 
case.  Thus,  when  it  was  asserted  that  acts  passed 
in  1779  and  in  1789  abolished  feudal  tenures 


OUT  OF  THE  WAY  139 

between  private  citizens,  Demosthenes  brought  out 
the  fact  that  landlords  had,  nevertheless,  for  years, 
continued,  uncontested,  to  embody  like  services 
and  conditions  in  leases  in  fee.  To  the  declaration 
that,  by  the  terms  of  a  perpetual  lease,  the  land 
lord  sold  the  land,  the  lawyer  inquired  if  this  were 
an  assumption  to  be  reached  outside  the  courts. 
Upon  quotations  from  Governor  Seward's  message 
of  1840,  denouncing  the  prevalence  of  leasehold 
tenures  as  inconsistent  with  the  best  interests  of 
the  State  and  contrary  to  a  sound  public  policy, 
Demosthenes  required  information  as  to  what  fol 
lowed  the  message  and  the  legislature's  quickened 
action.  The  lecturer  blundered  over  some  of  the 
particulars,  but  was  set  right  by  his  inquisitor.  It 
was  shown  that  a  commission  appointed  to  look 
into  Rensselaerwyck  troubles  recommended  a  con 
ference  between  landlord  and  tenants  ;  that  at  this 
time,  the  Van  Rensselaer  lawyer  offered  liberal 
terms  of  settlement,  and  only  because  the  tenants 
demanded  still  further  generosity  did  the  proposed 
settlement  come  to  nothing. 

Demosthenes  likewise  brought  out  legal  opinion : 
that  of  Judge  Amasa  J.  Parker,  in  his  charge  to  a 
grand  jury  at  Catskill,  in  the  previous  September ; 
and  that  of  Judge  Charles  J.  Ruggles  at  Kingston 
but  a  few  months  before,  wherein  he  explained  that 
the  titles  disputed  by  the  Downrenters  were  of  great 
public  moment,  and  their  validity  should  be  rigidly 
maintained,  since  all  the  land  titles  of  the  country 
were  derived  in  a  like  manner.  To  the  proposition 
that  the  State  take  these  lands  and  dispose  of  them 


140  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

to  the  tenants,  Judge  Ruggles  had  quoted  the 
Constitution  of  the  United  States,  "  No  state  leg 
islature  shall  pass  any  law  impairing  the  obliga 
tion  of  contracts,"  and  had  appended  to  it  his 
own  comment,  which  was  repeated  by  Demos 
thenes,  wagging  his  large  head :  "  A  law  to  abol 
ish  leases,  or  to  change  them  into  fee-simple 
estates,  against  the  will  of  either  party,  would  be 
absolutely  void." 

Phe  was  distressedly  regarding  the  sullen  im 
patience  of  the  audience,  who  shuffled  their  feet 
during  the  interruptions,  or  applauded,  with  an 
appearance  of  relief,  the  flippant  jokes  from  the 
platform  which  essayed  to  silence  Demosthenes. 

"  I  think,"  she  whispered  to  her  father,  "  they 
are  very  good-natured  with  Mr.  Mix,  don't  you  ?  " 

"Yes,"  he  assented,  "and  contemptuous  of  the 
little  fellow.  If  it  were  n't  for  that  they  would 
have  hustled  him  out  of  doors  at  the  first  word. 
For  Demosthenes  has  the  faculty  of  saying  the 
right  thing  in  the  wrong  way  invariably." 

Their  conversation  was  under  cover  of  another 
pause  in  the  lecture.  An  artificial  thirst  for  in 
formation  seized  upon  Jury  Post,  who  turned 
attention  from  lawyer  Mix,  raised  a  laugh  for  the 
Anti-renters,  and  seated  himself,  grinning  at  his 
appreciative  comrades. 

"  Doc  Colton  !  "  at  that  moment  called  a  voice 
from  the  door.  "  Doc  Colton  here  ?  He  's  wanted." 

The  doctor  stooped  to  grope  underneath  the 
bench  for  his  hat.  "  Confound  it !  "  he  muttered. 
"  Whose  baby  is  teething  now,  I  wonder  ?  Well, 


OUT  OF  THE  WAY  141 

little  girl,  there  is  no  help  for  it.  You  and  I  will 
have  to  go,  I  suppose." 

Phosbe's  face  was  so  disconsolate  as  to  amaze  her 
father.  Could  she  long  to  stay  for  more  of  this 
wordy  duel  between  bucolic  wits  ?  She  rose,  per 
force,  to  follow  him  in  his  difficult  passage  to  the 
door,  but  her  manner,  despite  an  effort  at  restraint, 
was  martyr-like,  and  more  and  more  it  puzzled  the 
doctor. 

Demosthenes  detected  their  first  movement,  has 
tening  to  join  them.  He  took  the  foolish  step  of 
attaching  himself  to  Phoabe,  while  Matt  Hager 
confidently  drew  the  father  aside. 

"  You  are  not  going  home,  I  trust  ?  "  said  De 
mosthenes  in  Phe's  ear. 

"Yes,"  she  replied  coldly.  "Father  has  a 
call." 

"  Must  that  of  necessity  take  you  with  him  ?  " 

"  I  can  be  carried  home  on  the  way  to  the 
patient,"  Phe  answered,  still  formally.  To  her 
self  she  added,  "I  wonder  what  he  is  saying  to 
father." 

Dr.  Colton  addressed  her  just  then.  "  Mathice 
tells  me  it  is  Squire  May  ham  who  is  ill,"  he  began, 
frowning  anxiously.  "  I  must  make  as  much  haste 
as  possible.  It  is  in  the  opposite  direction  from 
our  house  "  — 

"  Yes,  father." 

"  So,  since  Mathice  is  good  enough  to  propose 
it,  I  think,  child,  I  must  leave  you  to  his  escort. 
He  says  he  has  a  horse  here,  and  will  see  that  you 
get  home." 


142  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

The  two  young  things  exchanged  bashful  glances. 

"Ah!"  Dr.  Colton  ejaculated  inaudibly.  "So 
that  is  why."  And  he  went  away  on  his  errand 
of  mercy  alone. 

Demosthenes  seemed  instantly  swallowed  up  in 
the  crowd.  If  it  were  possible  for  him  to  be  crest 
fallen,  he  was  crestfallen  then.  But  neither  Matt 
saw  him,  nor  Phoebe.  The  young  man  found  a 
place  for  her  on  a  bench  near  the  door,  while  he 
stationed  himself  at  her  side.  So  they  waited  for 
the  close  of  the  lecture,  which,  in  spite  of  their 
apparent  attention,  might,  henceforth,  have  been 
in  Sanskrit  for  aught  that  either  understood. 

At  last  it  ended.  The  customary  vote  of  thanks 
was  taken,  the  noisy  clapping  ceased.  Phe  and 
Mathice,  borne  along  on  a  wave  of  humanity,  were 
swept  outside  the  building.  Some  gay  spirit  raised 
a  popular  strain  :  — 

"  Out  the  way,  old  Tobe  Snyder, 
Or  I  '11  tar  your  coat,  and  feather  your  hide,  sir." 

One  voice  after  another  joined  in.  It  became  a 
wild  chorus. 

"  I  hate  to  leave  you  in  this  mob,"  complained 
Matt  tenderly.  "  Can  you  stand  one  side  here,  on 
Mix's  platform,  till  I  get  the  horse?  I  shall  be 
right  back." 

"  I  '11  wait,"  said  Phe. 

Such  simple  words  may  mean  so  much.  The 
two  were  happy,  because  they  were  together.  They 
did  not  greatly  care  what  was  expressed  between 
them.  Just  this  —  that  they  might  see  each  other 
—  was  enough. 


OUT  OF  THE  WAY  143 

Matt  was  as  good  as  his  word,  and  returned 
directly  with  Billy  from  the  horse  sheds  behind  the 
hall.  In  arms  that  trembled  he  lifted  the  girl  into 
the  buggy,  and  they  drove  away  up  the  straggling 

street. 

"  Out  the  way,  old  Tobe  Snyder, 
Or  I  '11  tar  your  coat,  and  feather  your  hide,  sir." 

The  hoarse  shout  was  brought  to  them  on  the 
still  summer  night.  Neither  listened.  The  law 
lessness  of  the  song  was  set  apart,  far  away  from 
Matt  Hager  and  Phe  ColtQn.  The  silence  about 
them  was  heavy  with  significance.  They  went  on 
together,  in  a  blissful  unrest  that,  finally,  wrought 
upon  Phe's  nerves.  She  spoke,  utilizing  at  ran 
dom  the  first  thought  that  came  to  her. 

"  It 's  too  bad  about  the  Squire,  is  n't  it  ?  I  'm 
sorry  he  's  sick  again." 

"  Yes,  I  'm  sorry  too,"  Matt  echoed. 

Selfish  young  creatures,  their  tones  showed  pre 
cisely  how  sorry  they  were. 

"  It 's  pretty  serious,"  Phrebe  pursued,  merely 
to  say  something.  "  I  heard  father  telling  mother 
about  it,  one  day.  He 's  such  a  portly,  well  pre 
served  old  man,  he  does  n't  seem  like  an  invalid." 

"  Who  does  n't  ?     Your  father  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Matt,  how  you  tease  !  You  know  very 
well  I  mean  the  Squire." 

His  silliness  served  as  well  as  the  richest  humor 
to  amuse  a  mood  like  theirs.  Yet  neither  was 
heartless,  only  heart-touched,  and  Matt  went  on, 
"I'm  afraid  it  is  pretty  serious  about  Cousin  Mark. 
Mother 's  worried  —  why,  we  're  worried,  too,  of 


144  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

course,  Gitty  and  I,  but  mother  takes  it  hardest. 
He  's  the  only  kin  she  has  left  in  the  world,  and 
he 's  always  been  good  to  her.  My !  how  like 
fairyland  the  Mayham  place  used  to  seem  when  I 
was  a  little  lad." 

He  sighed  over  his  reminiscence,  before  noticing 
that  he  no  longer  held  Phe's  attention.  "  What 's 
the  matter?"  he  demanded. 

"  I  don't  know.  It 's  just  foolishness,  I  suppose, 
but  "  —  Phe  shuddered.  "  There  are  men  riding 
up  behind  us,"  said  she. 

"  Of  course,"  Matt  answered,  "  they  are  going 
home  from  the  lecture." 

"  Do  you  think  it 's  that  ?  Are  you  sure  ?  I 
thought  —  I  thought  it  might  be  they  were  Indi 
ans." 

Matt's  brown  hand,  lying  on  his  knee,  tightened 
into  a  fist.  "  Why,  Phe,"  he  expostulated  gently, 
"  you  are  frightened,  I  declare.  You  need  n't  be 
frightened,  even  at  Indians,  while  I  am  here  to 
take  care  of  you." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know."  To  his  consternation,  she 
burst  into  tears.  "  Don't  pay  any  attention,"  she 
sobbed.  "  Don't  notice  me.  I  hate  myself  to  be 
such  a  baby.  It 's  just  —  I  'm  worn  out  with  sus 
pense." 

He  saw  that  this  was  absolutely  true. 

The  gallop  of  horses  came  nearer.  It  reminded 
Matt  of  the  night  of  his  return  from  the  Anti-rent 
Association  meeting.  He,  too,  felt  as  if  these  were 
Indians. 

Several   men   passed   the   buggy.     Two   riders 


OUT  OF  THE   WAY  145 

drew  rein  at  the  horse's  head.  They  were  Almiran 
Sweet  and  Omar  Mix,  as  Matt  perceived  with  a 
distinct  sensation  of  relief. 

Then  Omar,  in  mere  pleasantry,  reached  out  a 
hand  and  grasped  Billy  by  the  headstall. 

"  Down  with  the  rent !  "  he  cried. 

Matt  shot  a  sidelong  glance  toward  Phe.  He 
made  no  answer  to  the  challenge. 

Omar  pushed  back  his  broad-brimmed  hat. 
"  It 's  Matt  Hager,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Don't  you  hear  ?     Down  with  the  rent !  " 

Another  second's  pause. 

"  Down  with  the  rent !  " 

Matt  leaned  forward.  He  jammed  the  whip 
into  its  socket,  and  handed  Phe  the  reins. 

"  Up  with  the  rent !  "  he  said. 


CHAPTER  XV 


There  is  not,  to  my  mind,  a  more  woeful  or  wonderful  matter 
of  thought  than  the  power  of  a  fool.  —  JOHN  RUSKIN. 

"  GREAT  Scott,  Matt,"  cried  Omar,  but  in  the 
same  hushed  undertone.  "  Somebuddy  might  hear 
you.  This  ain't  no  time  for  jokin'." 

"  I  'm  not  joking,"  Matt  replied. 

Omar  quitted  the  horse's  head,  riding  up  close 
to  the  carriage  side.  His  face  was  thrust  into 
Matt's.  Their  eyes  met. 

"  Have  you  turned  Uprenter  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Matt. 

His  motion  in  giving  Phoebe  the  reins  had  been 
on  an  impulse  to  spring  to  the  ground  and  defend 
his  new  position  by  force.  The  lines  hung  supinely 
in  the  girl's  fingers.  Now  she  suddenly  tightened 
her  hold.  Seizing  the  whip  she  struck  Billy 
smartly  on  the  back.  The  buggy  whirled  past 
Almiran,  sitting  straight  and  stern  upon  his  horse, 
past  Omar  Mix,  dumb  with  astonishment  in  the 
road. 

Phe  did  not  speak.  Presently  Matt  forced 
himself  to  say,  "  That  was  quick-witted  of  you. 
Thank  you  for  pulling  me  out  of  the  scrape." 

Phe  handed  him  back  the  reins.      "  I  did   it 


FATHER  AND   SON  147 

without  thinking^"  she  answered  constrainedly. 
"  It  was  by  a  sort  of  instinct." 

Matt's  brain  seemed  on  fire,  but  his  heart  was 
heavy  and  cold.  "  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  he  de 
manded  fiercely.  "  I  should  suppose  you,  at  least, 
would  be  glad." 

He  found  she,  too,  was  aroused  to  anger. 

"  Not  if  you  did  it  for  that  reason,"  she  replied. 

There  come  such  times  in  life,  when  conven 
tionalities  are  torn  aside  that  the  brutal  truth 
may  be  spoken.  "  Did  you  imagine,"  Matt  asked, 
turning  toward  her,  sidewise,  on  the  seat,  "  that 
I  would  throw  over  my  beliefs,  or  say  I  did,  be 
cause  I  wanted  to  stand  well  with  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Matt,  don't !  "  For  his  low  voice  was  ter 
rible  to  hear.  "  I  did  think  it.  Was  n't  it  true, 
then?" 

There  was  no  trace  of  shamed  vanity  in  her 
question.  Phe  Colton's  was  so  fine  a  nature  as  to 
feel  only  relief  at  the  knowledge  that  Matt  was 
superior  to  this  weakness. 

He  was  too  wholly  absorbed  by  his  stress  of  feel 
ing  to  heed  how  she  cowered  beneath  his  anger. 
"  Can't  even  you  understand  ?  "  he  cried.  "  There 
were  a  thousand  things  to  keep  me  with  the  Down- 
renters  :  my  bringing  up  and  my  friends,  and  — 
and  my  family.  Then  there  is  the  pride  about 
giving  in.  You  don't  know  what  that  is  to  a  man, 
and  a  man  with  Dutch  blood  in  his  veins.  And 
Almiran  Sweet  sitting  there !  But  the  strongest 
reason  of  all  was,  at  first,  that  I  couldn't  bring 
myself  to  do  what  I  despised  —  somebody  else  — 


148  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

for  doing  ;  and,  when  I  had  fought  that  out,  that 
this  other  would  be  your  side.  For  it  seemed  like 
a  bribe  to  me." 

"  I  see,"  said  Phoebe  simply.  "  Then  what  was 
it  that  moved  you,  Matt  ?  " 

He  sighed.  "  The  continual  dropping,  I  guess, 
that  wears  away  any  stone.  I  've  been  disgusted 
with  the  prime  movers  lately,  and  I  never  under 
stood  much  about  the  movement.  That  Associa 
tion  meeting,  a  while  ago,  startled  me ;  I  had  no 
notion  the  case  was  so  weak.  I  fancied  this  fel 
low,  to-night,  could  set  it  all  straight,  and  I  went 
to  the  lecture,  anxious  to  be  convinced.  But  see 
what  his  arguments  were !  Why,  even  Mossy  Mix 
was  too  much  for  him." 

"  I  think  you  are  a  real  hero,"  said  Phe  eagerly, 
longing  to  atone  for  her  injustice,  "  to  take  such  a 
stand  because  it  is  right,  and  in  the  face  of  the 
consequences." 

She  assumed  admiration  for  his  course,  yet  she 
shivered  at  the  reflection  that  here  was  another 
victim,  besides  her  father,  for  the  Indians'  ven 
geance. 

Matt  for  his  part  felt,  what  men  and  women 
must  feel  again  and  again  as  they  go  through  this 
world  together,  the  subtle  difference  between  the 
sexes'  point  of  view.  He  began  a  sentence,  and 
allowed  it  to  trail  off  into  nothing.  Of  what 
use  was  it  to  speak  ?  How  could  he  show  her  that 
where  love  kept  him  back  from  espousing  her 
cause,  the  inevitable  results  had  been  what  lashed 
him  on  ?  The  fear  that  he  should  be  led  by  fear 


FATHER  AND   SON  149 

had  proved  stronger  than  the  dread  lest  he  be 
persuaded. 

So  he  appeared  merely  to  shrug  away  her  praise 
with  masculine  embarrassment.  "  Oh,  I  can  get 
along  with  whatever  happens,"  he  remarked  care 
lessly.  "  I  'm  big  enough  to  take  care  of  myself, 
I  hope." 

"  Won't  your  father  be  very  angry  ? "  Phe 
timidly  suggested. 

"  If  you  knew  my  father  as  well  as  I  do,"  was 
the  grim  response,  "  you  would  n't  consider  it 
necessary  to  ask  me  that." 

"  But  —  Matt !  Suppose  he  is  —  very  angry 
indeed  ?  What  shall  you  do  ?  " 

It  was  the  feminine  instinct  of  protection,  weak 
and  yet  comforting. 

"  Bless  your  dear  heart,"  exclaimed  the  young 
fellow.  "  I  shall  get  on  all  right." 

They  had  reached  Dr.  Colton's  gate.  He  flung 
the  reins  over  the  dashboard  and  leaped  to  the 
ground.  His  strong  arms  stretched  up  to  help 
Phe.  He  lifted  her,  holding  her  thus  for  one 
precious  second.  Then  he  set  her  down  tenderly, 
as  if  she  were  frail  and  might  break. 

"  Be  careful,  won't  you  ?  "  she  murmured  en- 
treatingly.  "  Don't  do  anything  rash  —  Oh, 
there  comes  Allie  !  Good-night." 

"  I  '11  be  careful  because  you  asked  it,  Phe. 
Good-night." 

Matt  found,  on  reaching  home,  that  the  family 
had  all  gone  to  bed,  and,  relieved  that  his  contest 
with  old  Jacob  should  be  that  far  postponed,  he 


150  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

stumbled  about  the  dark  kitchen  (no  door  was 
ever  locked  in  Farley),  lighted  himself  a  candle, 
and  made  his  way  as  noiselessly  as  possible  to  his 
room.  Nor  did  he  guess  this  was  the  last  night 
he  should  ever  sleep  in  that  little  attic  chamber. 
It  was  characteristic  of  his  narrow,  concentrated 
nature  that  whereas,  two  months  before,  he  had 
undergone  the  tremor  of  doubt  as  to  any  possible 
step  the  Indians  might  take,  now  he  was  openly 
leaving  them,  other  considerations  altogether 
pressed  in  to  possess  his  mind. 

Here  again  the  future  was  impenetrable.  There 
was  no  foreseeing  that,  were  the  deserter  not 
shielded  from  the  visitation  of  wrath,  in  any  case, 
he  would  have  been  forgotten.  Yet  so  fast  did 
oncoming  events  press  one  upon  another  that  this 
was  to  solve  the  difficulty  Phe  Colton  felt  and 
Matt  had  quite  forgotten. 

For  another  phase  of  the  situation  presented  it 
self  as  morning  dawned  and  he  went  about  his 
work.  On  his  way  to  the  barn  he  stopped  at  the 
best-room  window  to  fasten  a  flapping  blind.  A 
scrap  of  white  on  the  front  door  caught  his  atten 
tion.  Dim  as  was  the  light,  this  showed  forth  dis 
tinct  by  reason  of  its  singularity.  He  went  close 
to  it  and,  stooping,  examined  what  it  was.  A  paper 
had  been  nailed  there  while  they  slept.  Matt  read 
its  purport,  and  re-read  it.  He  was  so  deep  in 
thought  that  he  failed  to  catch  the  shuffle  of  old 
feet  along  the  grassy  footpath.  His  first  intima 
tion  of  another  presence  was  the  peevish  inquiry, 
"  What  ye  standin'  there  a-gawpin'  at  ?  Ain't  ye 
never  seen  a  house  door  before  ?  " 


FATHER  AND  SON  151 

"  I  never  saw  that  on  a  house  door  before," 
said  Matt. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  Jacob  pushed  closer  to  the 
vestibule  steps,  craning  his  neck.  "  What  does  it 
say?" 

"  That  there  's  to  be  a  cattle  sale  two  weeks  from 
to-day  to  pay  up  your  back  rent." 

"  Stop  talkin'  sech  fool  stuff.  Tell  me  what  it 
says." 

"  That  is  what  it  says." 

"A  cattle  sale?"  Jacob  repeated.  "Whose 
cattle  ?  " 

"  Why,  yours." 

"  Mine  ? "  His  shrill  voice  pierced  the  air. 
"  Well,  that  is  a  good  joke  !  "  He  laughed  a 
derisive  cackle.  "  I  'm  jest  the  kind  o'  man  to  let 
'em  sell  my  cattle.  Whose  notion  is  it,  anyhow  ?  " 

"  Orson  Money  's  going  to  do  it.  But,  father, 
don't  you  understand  ?  It 's  the  law." 

"  Darn  the  law.  I  guess  we  Downrenters  '11 
see  this  thing  out,  law  or  no  law.  Well,  well,  I 
re'lly  should  like  to  see  Orson  Money  sellin'  my 
cattle." 

"  There 's  one  way  of  stopping  it,"  Matt  hinted. 
"  If  you  should  pay  the  rent " 

His  father's  howl  of  rage  drowned  the  sentence. 
"  That 's  pretty  talk  from  a  son  o'  mine.  If  I 
don't  look  out  I  vum  you  '11  be  gittin'  some  o'  the 
new  doctor's  notions  into  that  thick  head  o'  yourn. 
I  seen  ye  las'  night.  I  seen  ye.  Ye  took  that 
girl  home,  did  n't  ye  ?  " 

Matt  nodded. 


152  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

"  Ye  remember  what  I  told  ye." 

"  You  have  told  me  so  many  things !  " 

"  About  her :  I  told  ye  she  should  n't  never 
cross  my  doorsill " 

"  Well,  has  she  ?  "  Matt  savagely  interrupted. 

"  That  wan't  all.  I  said  ye  was  n't  never  to 
cross  her  doorsill,  nuther.  That 's  what  I  said." 

"  Who  has  ? "  the  young  man  once  more  de 
manded.  "  I  never  have  been  inside  that  house 
in  my  life.  And  now  we  will  leave  her  name 
alone,  if  you  please." 

It  grew  light  as  they  stood  on  the  vestibule 
steps,  facing  each  other  with  angry  eyes.  Matt 
could  see  the  sneering  smile  on  the  withered  lips 
broaden  into  a  laugh. 

"  Let 's  talk  about  the  sale,"  he  suggested. 
"  What  about  the  sale  ?  " 

"  You  leave  that  to  me,"  old  Jacob  rejoined 
curtly.  "  I  guess  I  can  see  to  that.  All  I  ask  you 
is  to  mind  what  I  tell  ye  when  the  time  comes." 

Feeling  himself  the  veriest  traitor,  Matt  threw 
back  his  head  with  outwardly  his  most  arrogant 
air. 

"  I  can't  help  you,"  he  said. 

"Ye  can't?  O'  course  ye  can't  help  me,  but 
jest  to  do  as  you  're  bid.  I  don't  ask  nothin'  more 
o'  ye  than  that." 

"Father,  I  am  sorry,"  Matt  answered,  "but 
even  so  much  I  can't  do.  I  will  not  defy  the 
sheriff." 

Old  Jacob  raised  one  hand  to  his  throat.  The 
breath  caught  there  and  choked  him. 


FATHER  AND   SON  153 

«  Ye  —  ye  vool !  "  he  yelled.     "  Pe  ye  scairt  ?  " 

"  No,"  Matt  steadily  replied,  "  but  I  think  the 
sheriff  is  right." 

"Oh,  ye  to?  Oh,  ye  to?  An'  vot  toes  I  gare 
vot  ye  t'ink  ?  It  ain't  Orson  Money.  It 's  t'e 
agend  an'  t'e  lan'lort.  T'at  's  vot  it  is,  ye  vool." 

"  I  know  all  that,"  was  Matt's  rejoinder.  "  And 
I  think  the  agent  and  the  landlord  are  right." 

"Pe  you  an  Ubrenter?"  shrieked  his  father. 

He  did  not  believe  it  even  now.  His  children, 
their  ways  of  life  and  thought,  were  often  a  puzzle 
to  him.  He  supposed  that  JVJathice  could  explain 
the  apparent  inconsistencies  of  his  attitude  after 
some  fashion  satisfactory  to  himself,  although  in 
comprehensible  to  his  father's  seldom  tried  brain. 

While  Matt  hesitated  to  take  the  plunge,  old 
Jacob  repeated  with  a  sneer,  — 

"  Pe  you  an  Ubrenter  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Matt. 

For  a  moment  that  burned  itself  into  the  re 
membrance  of  his  son,  Jacob  Hager  neither 
moved  nor  spoke.  Then  he  raised  his  clinched 
right  hand  and  brought  it  down  upon  his  thigh. 

"  Py  de  Edernal,"  he  swore,  scarcely  above  a 
whisper,  "  you  dake  dat  pack,  or  I  '11  gill  you." 

"Father,"  Matt  protested,  "I  hate  to  say  it. 
I  understand  what  all  this  means  to  us  both.  But 
I  am  a  man  grown.  I  have  my  opinions,  as  you 
have  yours.  I  am  not  a  child  any  more.  I  am 
stronger  than  you,  if  it  comes  to  that.  And  I 
can't  be  ordered  to  believe  yes  or  no.  I  must 
judge  for  myself." 


154  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"  Dake  pack  t'em  vorts,"  was  the  sole  reply. 
"  Dake  pack  t'em  vorts." 

"  I  can't.     I  am  an  Uprenter." 

Old  Jacob  leveled  his  skinny  forefinger,  point 
ing  to  the  gate.  "  T'en  co,"  said  he.  "  T'is  ain't 
no  blace  for  Ubrenters." 

"  Where  shall  I  go  ?  "  asked  Matt,  not  compre 
hending  what  he  meant. 

"  Vot  to  I  gare  ?  Co  to  t'e  tevil,  an'  starve,  or 
peg.  I  ton't  gare.  Put  co." 

Matt  turned  toward  the  house,  his  proud  head 
stiffly  erect.  "  After  I  've  said  good-by  to  my 
mother  and  Gitty." 

"No,  sir,  t'is  mornend.  You  nefer  ender  my 
house  acain." 

Matt  had,  so  far,  made  every  excuse  for  his 
father's  depths  of  disappointment  and  surprise. 
Now  this  heartless  dismissal  drove  all  else  from 
his  mind.  He  wheeled  about  to  the  road.  Dou 
bling  his  right  hand  into  a  fist,  he  smote  his  thigh. 

"  I  never  shall  enter  that  house,"  said  he  be 
tween  his  teeth,  "  until  you  beg  me  humbly  to 
come  back.  You  will  see  that  I  can  be  as  stub 
born  as  yourself." 

His  father  saw  it  —  then.  He  stood,  blankly 
staring  after  the  tall  figure  striding  away  into  the 
distance.  His  mouth  gaped  stupidly,  his  eyes 
protruded.  This  was,  in  truth,  a  child  of  his,  and 
he  had  given  his  son  the  nature  with  which  to  defy 
him. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

SQUIRE   MAYHAM 

To  wash  the  hands  not  only  promotes  health  and  clears  the 
sight,  but  it  also,  incontestably,  cleans  them.  —  SAMUEL  JOHN 
SON. 

ON  the  whole  Jacob  Hager  was  well  pleased  with 
his  action  toward  his  son.  He  had  expressed  his 
anger.  He  had  asserted  his  authority,  putting 
down  the  only  domestic  revolt  he  had  ever  encoun 
tered.  The  indignation  and  the  sense  of  wrong 
sustained  him  while  he  assumed  Matt's  duties,  but 
by  the  time  the  chores  were  done,  and  he  went  into 
the  house  to  breakfast,  the  burden  of  his  years  was 
heavy,  and  he,  in  consequence,  in  a  more  cross- 
grained  humor  than  usual. 

Meals  were  so  informal  in  the  Hager  family  that 
neither  of  the  women  considered  it  strange  Matt 
failed  to  appear  with  his  father.  By  the  time 
they  were  ready  to  leave  the  table  his  absence  was 
first  remarked. 

"  I  don't  see  where  Matt  is,"  Gitty  complained. 
"  If  he  supposes  I  'm  going  to  save  his  breakfast 
any  longer  he  's  mistaken.  He  takes  too  much  on 
himself." 

"  I  should  think  he  would  be  hungry,"  the  mo 
therly  care  was  prompted  to  say.  Mrs.  Hager 


156  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

crossed  the  room  to  the  window,  and  searched  the 
side  dooryard  that  led  down  to  the  stables.  Finally 
she  turned  her  slat  bonnet  slowly  toward  the  others. 
Both  she  and  her  husband  donned  their  headgear 
when  they  rose  in  the  morning,  and  only  put  it  off 
to  go  to  bed  again. 

"  I  can't  see  him,"  she  fretted.  "  I  can't  see  a 
sign  of  him  anywhere." 

Old  Jacob  was  greasing  his  boots  by  the  fire. 
He  did  not  lift  his  head,  nor  appear  to  notice  what 
was  happening.  But  this  indifference  must  be  of 
short  duration. 

"  Father,"  said  his  wife,  "  do  you  know  where 
Matt  is  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  replied  in  a  snarl. 

Gitty  detected  something  wrong.  She  would 
have  signaled  to  her  mother,  were  not  the  older 
woman  beyond  considerations  of  diplomacy. 

"You  don't?"  she  queried,  advancing  upon 
Jacob.  "  Have  n't  you  seen  him  this  morning  ?  " 

Her  husband  dropped  the  boots  with  a  crash. 
"Yes,  I  have,"  said  he.  "For  all  that,  I  don't 
know  where  he  is  now.  Lemme  alone." 

"  I  can't  see  what  you  mean,"  Mrs.  Hager  urged, 
with  the  persistency  of  a  weak  mind.  "  Has  he 
gone  off  anywhere  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  tell  ye." 

"  When  is  he  coming  back  ?  " 

"  Never,"  growled  Jacob.  "  He  ain't  never 
comin'  back." 

Gitty  broke  into  a  wail.  He  cared  nothing  for 
that.  It  was  when  he  saw  his  wife's  thin  cheeks 


SQUIRE  MAYHAM  157 

grow  white  that  for  one  second  his  tough  old  heart 
was  smitten.  Then  he  called  his  grievances  to 
mind,  and  was  fierce  again. 

"  Is  Matt  dead  ?  " 

He  would  not  have  recognized  the  voice  as  his 
wife's. 

"  He  's  worse  'n  dead,"  he  responded. 

"  How  could  he  be  worse  than  dead?  " 

"  He  could  be,  could  n't  he,  if  he  turned  Tip- 
renter  ?  " 

He  thrust  his  weazened  face  toward  her,  snap 
ping  out  the  retort.  To  him  it  was  unanswerable. 
It  was  nothing  to  her. 

"  Oh,  that !  "  she  cried,  almost  with  spirit.  "  Is 
that  all  ?  Where  is  he  gone  ?  " 

"  I  told  ye  I  don't  know.  What 's  more,  I  don't 
care.  It  may  not  be  much  to  you  to  have  a  son 
turn  traitor.  I  ain't  built  that  way.  He  won't 
never  come  under  my  roof  ag'in,  an'  so  he  under 
stands." 

For  the  first  time  in  her  married  life  Maria 
Hager  showed  a  resolute  opposition  to  her  hus 
band.  Her  limp  little  figure  straightened  and 
stiffened ;  her  sunken  eyes  blazed.  Her  trembling 
tones  were  steady  for  that  once. 

"  Have  you  driven  my  son  from  his  home  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  Did  n't  I  say  so  ?  " 

"  Then  say  it  again." 

"  I  guess  I  won't  'less  I  wanter."  And  yet  he 
found  himself  moving  uneasily  in  his  chair. 
"  Who 's  master  here,  I  'd  like  to  know  ?  It  don't 
make  what  the  women  folks  think." 


158  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"  Did  you  drive  my  son  from  his  home  ?  " 

A  guilty  conscience  and  some  natural  affection, 
both  for  his  son  and  for  his  wife,  gave  Jacob  a 
wholly  novel  sense  of  discomfort.  He  rebelled 
against  it,  he  who  was  always  sure  of  himself  and 
his  deeds,  and  it  served  to  render  his  manner  the 
more  violent. 

"  You  keep  still,"  said  he.  "  It  don't  make,  I 
tell  ye,  whether  this  is  accordin'  to  your  notion  or 
not.  I  ain't  never  yet  give  account  o'  what  I  done 
to  livin'  man,  an'  I  ruther  guess  the  time  ain't 
come  now." 

Maria  began  to  waver.     "  But,  father  "  — 

"  Don't  ye  say  another  word.  Don't  ye  never 
bring  up  that  boy's  name  to  me.  I  don't  want  to 
hear  no  more  about  him." 

Maria  sank  into  a  seat.  Resting  both  elbows  on 
her  knees,  the  bonneted  head  fell  forward  on  her 
hands.  A  choking  sob  broke  the  stillness  settling 
down  upon  the  room,  where  Gitty,  awed  by  the  ca 
tastrophe,  was  stealing  noiselessly  about  her  work. 
The  mother's  fire  had  flared  up,  and  faded  out. 
She  was  her  old,  meek  self  once  more.  There 
would  be  no  further  resistance.  Jacob  gathered 
his  boots  up  into  his  hands,  tiptoeing  out  to  the 
porch  to  put  them  on.  Maria  sat  by  the  window 
in  lonely  grief,  and  no  one  intruded  upon  it. 

Gitty's  own  heart  was  very  heavy.  As  soon  as 
she  could  leave  the  house,  and  had  seen  her  father 
on  his  way  to  the  distant  cornfield,  she  ran  down 
the  path  to  the  barn,  and  so,  through  the  bars,  into 
the  pasture,  and  to  its  bordering  fence.  As  she 


SQUIRE   MAYHAM  159 

had  hoped,  Almiran  was  busy  in  the  neighboring 
lot.  He  greeted  her  awkwardly. 

"Have  you  heard  about  Matt?"  she  inquired. 

"  Heard  about  him  ?     What  ?  " 

In  her  preoccupation  she  did  not  notice  his  tone. 
"  Father  and  he  have  had  a  quarrel.  We  don't 
know  where  he  's  gone.  I  want  you  should  find 
out  for  us." 

Almiran  crossed  his  arms  over  the  hoe-handle. 
"  What  was  the  row  about  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell  you,"  said  Gitty,  regarding  him 
piteously. 

"  Maybe  I  can  tell  you.  Was  it  because  he  's 
turned  Uprenter  ?  " 

"  Hush  !  Don't  speak  so  loud.  Whatever  made 
you  think  of  that?" 

"  You  need  n't  be  afraid  of  me."  He  sank  his 
voice,  even  in  that  solitude,  before  he  added,  "  I  'm 
consid'able  of  an  Uprenter  myself." 

"  You  are  ? "  His  soul  smarted  beneath  the 
horror  that  crept  into  her  eyes.  "  Why,  I  heard 
you  were  one  of  the  Indians,"  she  faltered. 

"  I  was  —  once.  They  don't  suspect  I  've  weak 
ened,  but  I  have.  I  seen  the  folly  of  it  long  ago. 
Matt 's  the  only  one  's  found  out,  and  he  called  me 
everything  he  could  lay  his  tongue  to.  He  ain't 
spoke  to  me  since,  neither.  You  've  seen  it,  hain't 
ye?" 

"  I  saw  there  was  something  wrong,  —  I  never 
guessed  what.  How  did  you  know  he  'd  turned  ?  " 

"  I  heard  him  say  so,"  Almiran  responded  coolly. 
"  I  must  confess  I  was  tickled,  after  the  way  he 


160  A  DOWNRENTER;S   SON 

laid  me  out.  You'd  'a'  thought  I  wan't  fit  to 
handle  with  a  pair  o'  tongs.  And  here  he  's  went 
an'  done  the  selfsame  thing  himself." 

He  perceived  that  this  aspect  of  the  case,  which 
appealed  to  him  peculiarly,  had  no  effect  upon 
Gitty.  Like  all  narrow  natures,  she  went  straight 
to  the  goal  of  her  first  resolve. 

"  What  I  want,"  she  repeated,  "  is  for  you  to 
find  out  where  he  is." 

Even  the  bitter  fact  that  Almiran,  as  well,  had 
joined  the  Anti-renters  was  swallowed  up  in  this. 

"  All  right,"  he  assented  reluctantly.  "  If  you  're 
set  on  it,  I  s'pose  I  must.  But  I  guess  Matt  Hager 
can  get  along,  fur  as  that  goes." 

It  was  the  encouragement  Matt  had  given 
Phrebe.  It  was  what  he  told  himself,  as  he  strode 
angrily  away  from  his  home  at  dawn,  and  had  no 
faintest  notion  whither  he  was  going.  He  might 
obtain  a  temporary  shelter  in  any  of  several  direc 
tions,  since  this  was  haying  time,  for  which  extra 
men  were  required.  But  there  was  small  general 
demand  for  workers  in  that  simple  community, 
where  most  families  relied  upon  "  father  and  the 
boys  "  for  all  manual  labor.  Dr.  Col  ton's  was  a 
peculiar  case,  in  that  his  time  was  too  broken  to 
allow  him  to  farm  his  land  himself,  and  Henry 
Fisher  was  among  the  rare  "  hired  help  "  of  Farley. 
The  Mayham  place,  of  course,  stood  by  itself.  In 
this,  as  in  every  instance,  the  fine  old  house,  in  its 
actual  aloofness  from  village  life,  typified  its  own 
er's  attitude.  The  Squire  and  Miss  A/ubah  ruled 
a  little  army  of  servants.  Matt  thought  of  their 


SQUIRE   MAYHAM  161 

home  at  once,  because  it  had  been  an  occasional 
haven  in  a  troublous  boyhood.  But  since  he  was 
aware  that  his  services  could  neither  be  required, 
nor  for  kinship's  sake  refused,  pride  forbade  him 
to  seek  a  refuge  there.  He  came  to  the  crossroad 
where  in  the  distance,  on  the  slope  of  its  terraced 
gardens,  he  could  discern  the  chimney-stacks  of 
the  great  stone  house.  He  shook  his  head  toward 
the  pleasant  picture  they  recalled,  and  resolutely 
turning  his  back,  marched  in  the  opposite  direc 
tion. 

By  that  swift,  instinctive  decision,  Matt  deter 
mined  his  future  life.  Large  issues  hung,  uncer 
tain,  upon  the  course  he  should  pursue.  Not  that 
he  thought  of  them,  nor  of  anything  loftier  than 
his  present  hunger  or  his  future  desperation. 
Then  suddenly,  at  an  angle  in  the  rail  fence  by 
the  roadside,  he  came  upon  the  remains  of  an 
accident. 

Two  horses,  thoroughbred,  stood  looking  back, 
as  if  in  gentlemanly  surprise,  at  a  light  carriage 
lurching  behind  them  on  three  wheels.  The  fourth 
lay  flat  in  the  dust,  its  splintered  axle  thrust  ag 
gressively  into  the  air. 

"  Helloa  !  "  cried  Matt.  "  What 's  happened 
here?" 

He  gazed  about  him  for  the  driver,  and  at  first 
in  vain.  At  last  he  spied  a  tall  figure  huddled 
close  to  the  fence,  prone  on  a  strip  of  weedy  grass. 

Matt's  first  impression  was  that  the  man  was 
dead.  It  was  plain,  from  the  trail  left  behind  him, 
that  he  had  dragged  himself  out  of  the  roadway  to 


162  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

a  sheltered  spot,  as  it  seemed  by  the  final  effort  of 
a  will  stronger  than  the  body.  The  young  fellow 
had  an  unwonted  sense  of  timidity  in  investigating 
the  case,  and  advanced  reluctantly,  to  stoop  over 
the  stricken  form,  and  lift  the  face  to  the  light. 

As  he  did  so  the  heavy  eyes  opened. 

"  Thank  God,"  murmured  a  spent,  tired  voice. 
"  I  have  been  praying  for  help." 

It  was  Squire  Mayham. 

Matt  knelt  and  raised  the  head  and  shoulders, 
that  his  cousin  could  rest  against  him.  He  loosened 
the  collar  and  stock,  and  fanned  the  purple  face 
with  his  hat. 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  he  presently,  after  a  little 
reflection.  "  I  guess,  Cousin  Mark,  I  can  prop  you 
up  here  against  the  fence  " 

"  Don't  leave  me." 

The  childish  entreaty  struck  his  heart ;  it  was 
so  unlike  the  Squire. 

"  I  won't  go  far,"  he  promised.  "  There  's  water 
in  that  lot  yonder,  and  if  I  could  make  you  com 
fortable  here,  with  my  coat  for  a  pillow,  I  'd  run 
down,  and  fill  my  hat  to  bathe  your  head.  I  think 
that  would  do  you  good.  You  wouldn't  mind, 
would  you?  " 

An  inarticulate  sound  seemed  to  give  him  per 
mission.  He  treated  his  cousin  as  a  baby,  and,  dis 
posing  of  him  in  the  best  manner  possible,  made 
the  little  trip  to  the  creek  with  all  the  speed  he 
could  use.  Meanwhile  he  watched  the  road  impa 
tiently  for  aid.  No  one  was  in  sight,  so,  speaking 
from  time  to  time  to  the  wise  horses,  who  appeared 


SQUIRE  MAYHAM  163 

to  understand  the  dilemma,  Matt  rendered  such 
assistance  to  the  sick  man  as  his  ignorance  and 
his  appliances  might  afford.  The  Squire  scarcely 
spoke,  nor  was  he  apparently  quite  conscious  of  his 
surroundings. 

The  turnpike  was  a  frequented  road  on  a  sum 
mer  morning.  Presently  a  teamster,  on  a  buck- 
board,  came  rattling  into  sight.  He  drew  up  his 
horses  quickly  as  he  spied  the  breakdown,  and 
saluted  it  in  the  formula  Matt  had  adopted,  — 

"  Helloa  !     What 's  happened  here  ?  " 

Matt  answered  the  call,  from  the  fence  where  he 
bent  over  the  Squire. 

"  Glad  to  see  you,"  said  he.  "  Can't  you  help 
us  ?  My  cousin  is  n't  feeling  very  well.  I  want 
to  get  him  home." 

The  man's  neighborly  concern  met  Matt's  earnest 
look,  —  a  look  that  expressed  far  more  than  the 
speech. 

"  Why,  of  course,"  he  agreed  genially,  swinging 
himself  to  the  ground.  "  We  '11  have  him  all  right 
in  a  jiffy.  Where  does  he  feel  bad  ?  " 

Again  Matt  glanced  at  him  across  the  prostrate 
figure.  "  I  guess  he  must  have  been  thrown  when 
the  wagon  keeled  over,"  he  answered,  "  and  that 
upset  him  a  little.  Was  n't  that  about  it,  Cousin 
Mark?" 

"  Yes,"  murmured  the  old  man. 

"  Why,  I  swan  to  goodness,  it 's  Squire  May- 
ham,"  exclaimed  the  farmer. 

"  At  your  service,"  whispered  the  husky  voice. 

"  Well,  I  declare  for  it,  Squire,  I  'm  sorry  to  see 


164  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

you  in  such  a  fix,"  protested  the  man.  "  It 's  too 
bad.  But  we  '11  git  ye  home  all  right.  S'pose  we 
can  use  my  buckboard  ?  "  The  question  was  ad 
dressed  to  Matt. 

"  Better  than  wait  here  any  longer,"  he  replied 
anxiously.  "  We  must  do  the  best  we  can,  and 
hurry.  The  main  thing  's  to  put  him  to  bed  as 
soon  as  possible,  and  fetch  the  doctor." 

"  I  guess  that 's  about  it,"  agreed  the  other. 

The  homeward  journey  was  accordingly  made, 
awkwardly,  to  be  sure,  for  the  farmer  led  his  own 
team  at  a  slow  walk,  after  he  had  secured  the 
Squire's  horses  at  the  end  of  the  buckboard,  yet 
without  causing  much  additional  discomfort  to  the 
sufferer,  stretched  at  full  length  with  his  head  sup 
ported  in  Matt's  arms.  At  the  gateway  which 
opened  upon  the  curving  graveled  road  leading  up 
to  the  house,  they  encountered  Joe  Murray,  who 
was  full  of  expedients.  In  a  more  sophisticated 
region  Joe  might  have  been  called  the  butler. 
To  Farley  he  was  simply  "  Squire  Mayham's  black 
man."  He  had  all  the  deftness  and  kindness  of  a 
well-trained  negro  servant,  and  with  his  assistance 
the  sick  man  was  carried  into  the  house  and  up  the 
winding  stairs  to  the  great  bedroom,  where  Miss 
Azubah  was  bustling  about,  making  all  things  ready 
for  his  comfort. 

"  I  told  Marcus  he  was  n't  well  enough  to  drive 
to  town  this  morning,"  the  little  old  lady  reiterated, 
in  her  soft,  good-natured  voice,  as  she  fluttered 
around  the  bed.  "  It  was  madness  to  try  it,  and  I 
said  so.  But  a  man  will  have  his  way,  and  a  sick 


SQUIRE  MAYHAM  165 

man  is  more  obstinate  than  one  that  is  well. 
There !  This  is  what  the  doctor  left  for  him  last 
night,  Mathice.  Give  him  a  teaspoonful  from  this 
glass." 

Matt,  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  canopied  bed, 
took  the  goblet  Miss  Azubah  handed  to  him. 

"  Shall  I  go  for  Dr.  Colton  now  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  I  '11  go,"  offered  the  farmer,  who  lingered  by 
the  door.  "  I  can  call  around  there,  on  my  way 
home.  You  stay  here." 

Matt  felt  a  hand  reach  from  under  the  counter 
pane  and  close  upon  his  wrist. 

"  Don't  leave  me,"  whispered  the  Squire. 

He  looked  toward  Miss  Azubah. 

"  Marcus  wishes  you  to  stay,"  she  repeated.  "  It 
is  best  to  humor  him." 

"  That  is  right,"  said  the  Squire. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

« 

FAIR   WARNING 

My  greatest  adversaries  are  young  ignorance  and  old  custom. 
—  REGINALD  SCOT. 

GITTY  ran  down,  the  next  morning,  to  that  angle 
in  the  fence  which  was  her  trysting-place.  There 
she  found  Almiran. 

"  Well?  "  she  called  breathlessly. 

"  It  ?s  all  right.     He  's  at  the  Mayham  place." 

She  drew  a  deep  sigh  of  relief.  "  Oh,  I  am  so 
glad !  If  you  could  see  mother's  face !  Is  he 
going  to  stay  there  ?  " 

"  I  guess  so.  They  say  the  Squire 's  pretty  bad 
off.  Doc  Colton  was  there  all  night." 

Gitty's  animated  expression  changed  instantly. 
"Who  told  you  so?" 

"  Well,"  Almiran  answered  slowly,  whittling  at 
the  fence,  "  it  was  just  like  this.  I  thought  it  all 
over,  and  I  see  they  'd  be  more  likely  'n  anybody 
else  to  know  where  Matt  was.  So  I  went  over  to 
the  Coltons'  last  night,  and  asked  'em." 

"Yes,"  Gitty  replied.  "  Phe  Colton  would 
know.  She 's  crazy  about  Matt." 

Almiran  was  not  only  good-natured,  but  he  pos 
sessed,  in  a  peaceable,  phlegmatic  soul,  what  some 
times  serves  as  tact.  He  shrank  from  dissension, 


FAIR  WARNING  167 

and  although  the  shot  struck  home,  he  made  no 
sign. 

"She  did  act  sort  of  interested,"  he  acknow 
ledged.  "  But  you  see  they  had  n't  heard  anything 
was  wrong.  It  seemed  natural  enough  to  them  Matt 
should  go  home  with  the  Squire,  and  look  after  him 
—  a  relative  like  that.  Did  I  tell  you  Matt  found 
him  in  a  fit,  or  something,  'longside  the  road  ?  " 

"  Why,  no." 

"  Well,  he  did.  Doc  says  he  'd  'a'  died  if  Matt 
had  n't  come  along.  I  guess  everybody  will  hear 
that  part,  and  not  much  else.  I  seen  Omar  Mix, 
too,  and  told  him  to  keep  still.  Nobody  need  find 
out,  after  all,  Gitty,  that  Matt's  an  Uprenter. 
Omar's  fixed,  and  —  and  I  spoke  to  Phe  Colton. 
They  were  the  only  ones  heard  it  but  just  me. 
Your  father  ain't  likely  to  spread  it,  neither.  I 
guess  you  ain't  cause  to  fret." 

This  was  true.  The  tender-hearted  fellow  had  so 
managed,  and  circumstances  so  combined  to  help 
him,  that  Matt's  absence  from  home  was  regarded 
as  natural  and  temporary.  There  was  no  family 
scandal  to  explain. 

Jacob  Hager  discovered  this  when  he  went  down 
to  Mix's  on  an  errand  rendered  necessary  by  the 
loss  of  that  son  who,  he  now  found,  had  taken  many 
such  duties  upon  himself.  The  surly  old  man  had 
been  for  years  allowed  to  creep  into  a  selfish  se 
clusion,  rarely  leaving  his  home,  seldom  seeing  even 
a  neighbor,  and  growing  constantly  more  opin 
ionated,  dull,  and  determined  in  that  retrograding 
loneliness.  He  was  no  favorite.  His  appearance 


168  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

among  his  fellow-men  received  small  attention. 
Yet,  even  so,  he  saw  that  his  quarrel  with  his  son 
was  not  suspected.  Believing  himself  a  martyr  to 
the  popular  cause,  he  felt  that,  were  the  truth 
known,  public  sentiment  must  side  with  him.  It 
would  go  far  to  atone  for  the  silent  grief  of  his 
wife  at  home  if  outside  his  Brutus-like  behavior 
were  approved.  But  the  last  straw  was  added  to 
his  weight  of  wrongs  as  Adem  Mix  remarked,  over 
the  sugar  he  was  weighing,  — 

"  I  suppose  Matt  will  come  into  every  cent  of 
that  property  now." 

"  Huh  ?  "  grunted  Jacob,  surprised  and  sullen. 

"Indeed  he  will,"  the  shopkeeper  persisted,  in 
what  was  intended  for  reassurance.  "  It  was  lucky 
for  you  the  boy  ran  against  him  as  he  did.  The 
doctor  says  he  'd  have  died  where  he  laid,  if  help 
hadn't  come  pretty  soon.  Then,  having  Matt 
right  there  in  the  house  so,  why,  he  '11  get  every  cent 
of  the  May  ham  property.  You  see." 

Old  Jacob  clutched  at  his  parcel.  "  'T  ain't  no 
ways  sure,"  he  returned.  This  was  his  first  inti 
mation  in  regard  to  Matt's  whereabouts.  "  I  've 
heard  tell,  for  years,  'bout  that  prop'ty  goin'  to 
his  wife's  folks." 

"  Oh,  it  won't ;  not  now,"  Mr.  Mix  declared. 
"  Blood 's  thicker  than  water  after  all,  and,  with 
Matt  there,  tending  the  Squire  hand  and  foot,  as 
you  may  say,  I  miss  my  guess  if  he  don't  come  into 
the  hull  of  it." 

Jacob  scowled,  moving  toward  the  door.  Adem 
supposed  him  unconvinced,  and  called  after  him  : 


FAIR  WARNING  169 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Mr.  Hager.  I  want  to  tell 
you  something.  I  understand  the  Squire's  affairs 
from  A  to  Z.  I  and  him  were  schoolmates  at 
school,  and  he  ain't  never  forgot  it.  We  've  always 
been  first-rate  friends."  Here  Mr.  Mix  leaned 
across  the  counter  and  lowered  his  voice,  albeit 
they  were  alone.  "  I  've  heard  him  talk  about  his 
prope'ty." 

Jacob  as  nearly  turned  toward  him,  as  nearly 
met  his  gaze,  as  was  possible  to  his  awkward  man 
ner.  "  Then  ye  ought  to  know,"  he  snarled,  "  what 
they  've  said  for  years :  ev'ry  stick  an'  stun  on  the 
place  was  left  to  them  Western  kin  o'  hisn." 

"  Yes,  yes,  Mr.  Hager.  That 's  what  they  've 
always  calculated.  But  the  Squire  wan't  ever  real 
easy  in  his  mind  about  leaving  Maria's  children 
next  to  nothing,  for  all  this  was  the  way  he  looked 
at  it."  Mr.  Mix  tapped  the  words  out  on  the  coun 
ter.  "  Jacob  Hager  's  got  enough  —  that 's  how  he 
reasoned  —  enough,  and  lots  of  it.  And  Mis'  May- 
ham's  folks  were  needy.  It  seemed  a  kind  of  duty. 
He  told  me  so  more  than  once." 

"  Well  ?  "  Jacob  snapped. 

"  Well,  times  have  changed.  It  can't  be  more 
than  a  week  or  ten  days  ago  he  was  in  here,  and 
he  let  fall  that  Miss  Azubah  and  him  were  satis 
fied  them  Bretts  were  piling  up  money  hand  over 
fist.  Why,  they  've  sold  town  lots  off  o'  that  farm 
that  nobody  thought  was  wuth  the  taxes,  till  the 
Squire  he  says,  near  as  he  can  make  out,  all  they 
got  to  do  in  this  livin'  world  's  just  to  set  still  and 
let  the  dollars  roll  in.  I  bet  they  're  snugger  'n 


170  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

what  you  be,  this  minute.  Yes,  sir,  I  could  see 
then  plain  enough  he  was  thinking  about  Matt. 
He  ain't  forgot,  neither,  that  scrape  at  the  Cripple 
Bush.  With  your  boy  right  there  in  the  house, 
don't  you  see  yourself  how  he  '11  come  into  it  all  ?  " 

"  No,"  Jacob  contended,  "  I  ain't  no  idee  he 
will." 

He  fled  with  this  declaration,  but  it  was  not  the 
truth.  Determined  that  life  must  work  out  all  his 
wishes,  he  failed,  nevertheless,  to  force  the  entire 
belief  that  Matt  could  be  no  gainer  by  banish 
ment  from  home.  He  assured  himself  that  the 
Squire  was  too  ill  to  consider  such  matters.  Yet 
he  knew  they  would  be  of  the  first  importance  to 
himself,  were  it  his  last  hour  on  earth,  and  he  pos 
sessed  no  other  standard  by  which  to  judge  the 
invalid.  He  rebelled  madly  against  the  notion  that 
his  disobedient  son  had  profited  by  an  unfilial  act. 
His  lack  of  imagination,  his  very  denseness  of 
understanding,  were  all  that  comforted  him. 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  he  repeated  over  and  over. 
"  I  don't  believe  but  what  the  Squire  's  too  sick  to 
do  anything.  Why,  he  may  die  any  minute.1' 

So  he  evaded  the  facts. 

Neither  Adem  Mix  nor  the  loungers  outside  the 
shop  said  a  word  to  Jacob  of  the  sale  which  was 
to  take  place  in  the  following  week.  They  were, 
to  a  man,  sympathizers  with  his  cause,  and  several 
among  them  were  Indians.  But  personally  he  was 
disliked  in  Farley,  and  it  was  as  Matt's  father,  or 
simply  as  a  Downrenter,  that  they  meant  to  guard 
his  home. 


FAIR  WARNING  171 

It  had  been,  moreover,  deemed  expedient  to  con 
ceal  closely  a  plan  that,  defiant  as  these  rebels  were 
become,  was  the  most  flagrant  outrage  against  the 
law  in  which  they  had  as  yet  engaged.  So  Jacob 
Hager  left  Mix's,  and  started  upon  his  homeward 
road  without  having  received,  at  this  general  meet 
ing-place,  any  hint  as  to  what  should  be  done  to 
sustain  his  resistance  to  the  officers.  He  intended 
to  stand  firm,  even  if  he  stood  alone,  but  he  did 
not  expect  it  to  come  to  this.  He  was  positive  he 
could  count  upon  the  Indians. 

Nor  had  he  reckoned  at  random.  His  way  led 
him  past  Storm  Zielle's  little  whitewashed  house, 
nestling  close  to  the  turnpike.  A  group  of  young 
men  in  the  tiny  dooryard  were  teasing  Daniel 
Pick,  at  work  upon  the  leaky  roof,  or  conferred 
in  an  undertone,  as  was  the  habit  in  those  days 
whenever  a  few  friends  met  together.  There  was 
much  to  say  in  confidence. 

"  Here  's  old  Jacob  this  very  minute,"  said 
Storm.  "  Let  's  speak  to  him  about  it.  Shall 
we?" 

There  was  a  murmured  assent.  Storm  raised 
his  voice. 

"  Hey,  Mr.  Hager !  Step  this  way.  We  were 
just  talking  about  you." 

Jacob  paused  before  the  gate.  He  guessed  what 
was  coming,  and  perhaps  one  of  the  hardest  tasks 
of  his  life  was  that  he  should  accept  it  graciously. 
He  had  been  always  a  self-reliant,  unsocial  being. 
It  embittered  him  that  he  could  not  retain  his 
independence  here.  He  who  had  never  shared  his 


172  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

long  prosperity  with  others  must  beg  them  to  be 
partakers  in  his  ill-fortune. 

"  Well,  boys,"  said  he,  "  what  you  want  ?  " 

"Come  here.  Come  closer,"  Storm  replied, 
while  the  others  crowded  up  about  the  gate.  "  The 
walls  has  ears,"  glancing  towards  Dan  upon  his 
ladder.  "  That 's  right,  Mr.  Hager.  Step  right  up 
to  the  fence.  Nobody  ain't  going  to  bite  you." 

Jacob's  eyes  flashed  at  the  chuckle  that  greeted 
this  pleasantry.  To  one  altogether  unaccustomed 
to  restraint,  his  position  was  torture. 

"  Well,  well,  what  ye  makin'  sech  a  myst'ry 
about  ?  "  he  queried,  endeavoring  to  smile. 

"  About  this  sale  of  yours,"  whispered  Conrate 
Swart  across  the  gate. 

"  What  about  my  sale  ?  " 

"  Is  it  going  to  come  off  ?  " 

Old  Jacob  brought  his  fist  down  with  a  thump 
upon  his  thigh.  "  If  I  'm  dead  and  buried  before 
then,  mebbe  so.  Not  if  I'm  above  ground,  it 
won't." 

"  Good  for  you,"  declared  an  excited  chorus. 
"That's  the  kind  of  talk.  What  you  going  to 
do?" 

"  Shoot,"  said  Jacob. 

"  Good  enough,"  cried  the  men  once  more. 
"You  want  any  Indians  happening  in?  One 
man  —  or  two,  if  Matt  should  be  there  —  won't 
be  much  of  a  match  for  the  sheriff." 

Did  not  Jacob  Hager  realize  all  that  ? 

"Yes,"  he  forced  himself  to  concede.  "  I  guess 
a  few  Indians  ud  come  in  handy." 


FAIR   WARNING  173 

"  Enough  said,"  Conrate  nodded.  "  Maybe 
White  Cloud  can  be  coaxed  to  get  out  some  of 
them.  We '11  see." 

He  rolled  his  eyes  in  the  direction  of  Storm 
Zielle.  It  was  a  boyish  understanding  that  the 
rightful  name  of  a  leader  or  his  subordinates 
should  never  be  spoken  in  connection  with  the 
maskers. 

"  Maybe  so,"  said  Storm,  whereat  ensued  an 
other  shout  of  laughter. 

They  had  grown  unconsciously  bolder  in  their 
merriment.  Every  one  was  startled  at  the  sound 
of  a  voice  that  floated  down  musically  to  the  group : 

"  One  woe  is  past ;  and,  behold,  there  come  two 
woes  more  hereafter.  For  all  they  that  take  the 
sword  shall  perish  with  the  sword.  Man  of  sin," 
—  Crazy  Dan  directed  a  forefinger  toward  the  up 
raised  face  of  Jacob  Hager,  —  "  who  hath  warned 
you  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come  ?  Nay,  but 
except  ye  repent,  ye  shall  all  likewise  perish.  A 
word  spoken  in  due  season,  how  good  it  is ! " 

He  went  back  quietly  to  his  task,  and  the  shin 
gles  flew  about  him  as  he  worked. 

"  Gosh,"  ejaculated  Storm  beneath  his  breath, 
"  I  never  heard  him  pepper  anybody  with  texts 
like  that  before." 

"  I  guess  he 's  kind  of  wrought  up,"  Conrate 
Swart  explained.  "  You  see  there  are  all  sorts  of 
things  in  the  air.  He  picks  up  a  little  here  and 
a  little  there,  and  it  excites  him.  Then  all  he  can 
do,  to  let  it  off,  is  to  gabble  Scripture.  It  sounded 
real  comical,  did  n't  it  ?  " 


174  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

"  I  think  it  did,"  Jacob  agreed,  in  most  unusual 
loquacity.  "  I  did  n't  mind  what  he  said,  not  a 
mite.  Only  I  thought  it  sounded  reel  comical." 

He  turned  away  from  the  gate. 

"  August  fifth  ?  "  observed  Storm  interrogatively. 

"  I  guess  that 's  about  it." 

"  AU  right.     August  fifth  it  is." 

And  Crazy  Dan,  who  called  himself  the  prophet 
of  the  Lord,  went  on  with  his  work,  and  paid  no 
more  heed  to  them. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
HAGER'S  SALE 

Revenge  being  indeed  so  deeply  rooted  in  human  nature  that 
to  prevent  the  excesses  of  it  Almighty  God  allows  not  any  de 
gree  of  it  to  any  man,  but  says,  "  Vengeance  is  Mine."  —  ISAAK 
WALTON. 

IT  was  at  this  juncture  that  Gitty  committed 
an  act  whose  results  were  to  be  found  unexpect 
edly  far-reaching.  Afterwards  she  strove  to  ex 
cuse  her  impulse  by  remembering  how  alone  and 
how  desperate  she  had  been.  She  could  not  go  to 
Matt,  and  brave  her  father's  displeasure.  Maria 
Hager,  always  compliant,  had  sunk  beneath  this 
last  blow  to  an  utterly  spiritless  creature.  The 
short  school  vacation  was  over,  but  Gitty  scarcely 
felt  in  a  mood  for  study,  and  so  far  remained  at 
home.  Outside  her  family  she  saw  no  one  except 
Almiran,  and  knew  no  one  else  (so  she  told  her 
self  now,  and  told  herself  vehemently  many  times 
thereafter)  of  whom  to  ask  for  aid.  Moreover, 
underneath  every  other  reason,  was  that  sweetness 
of  reliance  upon  him,  of  riveting  the  bond  between 
them  by  dependence  on  her  side  and  comfort  upon 
his,  —  of  trying  his  feeling  for  her  by  the  test  of 
what  he  would  do. 

So  she  slipped  down  through  the  bars  to  the 


176  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

pasture,  and  at  the  fence  raised  the  bird  call  that 
was  grown  to  be  their  signal. 

Presently  Almiran  appeared  on  the  slope  of  the 
hill  down  which  Phe  Colton  had  raced  on  the  day 
when  she  sought  refuge  at  the  Hager  homestead. 
He  walked  over  the  ploughed  ground,  but  seemed 
to  be  in  haste  and  ran  as  soon  as  he  came  to  a  level 
strip. 

"  Helloa,"  said  he.  "  I  was  lookin'  for  you. 
Heard  about  the  meetin'  last  night  ?  " 

"  No.  Father  never  tells  us  anything.  I  was 
sure  he  went  to  one  from  the  way  he  acted.  Was 
there  a  lecturer  here  ?  " 

"  That  same  fellow  Mossy  Mix  talked  up  to. 
He  come  back  and  held  another  meetin'.  I  guess 
it  was  just  to  set  himself  right  with  the  boys  here, 
for  they  did  n't  let  it  git  out.  They  passed  the 
word  around  among  the  Downrenters,  and  nobuddy 
else  went.  From  what  pa  says,  they  must  have 
had  a  high  old  time.  I  got  out  of  it.  I  did  n't 
go.  Your  father  was  there.  Pa  says  there  was 
some  talk  on  the  sly  about  what  ud  be  done  at  the 
sale  to-morrow.  I  thought  you  'd  be  scairt,  if  you  'd 
heard. " 

Gitty  leaned  forlornly  on  the  fence.  "  I  had  n't 
heard,"  she  answered,  "  but  I  'm  scared.  Almiran, 
what  shall  we  do  ?  Father 's  sure  to  get  into  trou 
ble." 

Almiran  glanced  up  sympathetically  from  his 
whittling  at  the  rail.  Every  woman,  it  is  said,  has 
her  one  moment,  if  no  more,  of  positive  beauty. 
Gitty's  came  then.  Her  eyes  were  softened  and 


HAGER'S   SALE  177 

deepened  by  sorrow.  Her  lips  wore  a  wistful  ex 
pression.  Her  slat  bonnet  had  fallen  on  her  neck, 
revealing  the  tendrils  of  hair  that,  in  the  heat  of 
the  August  morning,  curled  about  her  cheeks  and 
temples. 

"  By  gum,  she  looks  good,"  Almiran  mused. 
And  he  forgot  Phe  Colton's  face. 

"  What  do  you  want  I  should  do,  Gitty  ?  "  he 
asked  gently. 

She  wrung  her  hands.  "  Oh,  I  don't  know ! 
What  can  be  done  ?  That 's  all  I  want  —  for  you 
to  tell  me  that." 

"  I  wish  I  could,"  he  answered  dolefully.  "  Pa 
says  your  father  went  on  like  a  madman,  last  night, 
at  the  meeting.  He  declared  for  it,  when  Orson 
Money  come  to  take  away  his  cattle,  he  'd  have  a 
gun  handy,  and  if  he  touched  'em,  he  'd  blow  him 
up  sky  high." 

"  He  would,  too,"  said  Gitty.  "  He  'd  do  any 
thing  if  he  was  mad.  But  what  shall  we  do,  Al 
miran  ?  He  must  n't  be  let  to  act  like  that." 

"  You  know  the  Injuns  '11  be  there,  don't  ye  ?  " 

"  I  thought  likely.  Do  you  suppose  they  can 
prevent  mischief?  " 

"  I  don't  see  how."  Almiran  frowned.  He  was 
afraid  of  what  she  should  ask. 

"  Why,  by  frightening  off  the  sheriff.  They  've 
done  it  often  enough.  Oh,  Almiran,"  she  gazed  at 
him  piteously,  "  won't  you  come  along  with  'em  ?  " 

"  What  for  ?  " 

He  was  whittling  very  fast.  He  did  not  care  to 
meet  the  entreaty  of  her  eyes. 


178  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know !  "  The  old,  familiar,  fem 
inine  cry.  "  I  'd  feel  so  much  safer  and  more  sat 
isfied  if  I  was  sure  you  was  'mongst  'em.  Won't 
you  come,  Almiran  ?  Please  !  " 

Tiny  splinters  flew  from  the  weather-stained 
wood.  Almiran's  torn  hat  bent  low  over  his  work 
of  destruction.  There  fell  a  little  pause. 

"  If  I  go,"  said  he  at  length,  without  lifting  his 
head,  "  it  '11  have  to  be  in  disguise.  You  under 
stand  that?" 

"  Why,  certainly.  I  did  n't  suppose  you  'd  side 
with  us  and  show  your  face,  so  as  you  could  be 
arrested.  I  meant  just  as  an  Indian." 

"•  And  —  you  remember  I  'm  kind  of  an  Up- 
r  enter  ?  " 

"  I  remember.  But,  Almiran,  this  once  !  Please." 

Almiran  groaned  in  spirit,  saying  to  himself  that 
it  was  after  this  fashion  women  regarded  a  princi 
ple.  "  You  can  ask  'most  anything  of  'em,"  he 
concluded,  "  and  you  '11  be  sure  to  git  it ;  any 
thing  but  justice.  They  ain't  no  idea  what  that 
means." 

Gitty  leaned  on  the  fence,  regarding  him  ear 
nestly,  magnetically.  He  twisted  his  body  and 
limbs  about,  for  a  moment  of  indecision.  Then  he 
spoke. 

"  Well,  well !  Don't  say  any  more  about  it.  I  '11 
come." 

"  Oh,  you  dear  Almiran  !  "  she  cried  jubilantly. 
"  You  're  as  good  as  gold.  My  heart 's  as  light  as 
a  feather.  I  believe  everything  will  go  all  right 
after  this." 


HAGER'S  SALE  179 

"  I  'm  not  so  sure  of  that,"  he  replied  in  a  very 
different  tone. 

Before  their  early  breakfast  was  finished,  on  the 
following  morning,  Gitty  saw  that  men  and  boys 
were  collecting  in  groups  along  their  fence,  and  in 
the  roadway.  As  the  crowd  grew,  she  spoke  to  her 
mother. 

"Look  at  all  the  folks  outside.  It  makes  me 
ashamed.  You  'd  think  we  had  a  circus." 

"  I  don't  care,"  was  the  dull  answer.  "  I  've  got 
beyond  all  that.  It  don't  make  a  mite  of  differ 
ence  to  me.  Folks  can  do  just  as  they  please." 

Maria  did,  indeed,  go  on,  with  perfect  compo 
sure,  about  her  daily  tasks ;  but,  no  sooner  had  the 
older  woman  disappeared  into  the  milk  cellar,  than 
Gitty  tiptoed  to  the  front  of  the  house,  and  peered 
through  the  best  room's  shutters. 

The  deputy  sheriff  and  Mr.  Van  Zandt,  the 
landlord's  lawyer,  were  driving  up  to  the  gate. 
They  hailed  her  father  from  the  step  where  he 
had  seated  himself. 

"  Hager,"  Mr.  Van  Zandt  began,  "  can't  we  set 
tle  this  business  amicably  ?  Both  of  us  want  to 
be  fair,  I  'm  sure.  Come,  now,  man,  be  reasonable. 
Will  you  pay  the  rent  ?  " 

"Not  a  grain  of  wheat,"  was  the  instant  re 
sponse.  "  That 's  the  way  I  '11  settle." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  the  lawyer.  "  If  that  is 
so,  you  must  take  the  consequences." 

He  seemed  worried,  however,  and  Snyder's  fore 
head  wore  an  anxious  frown.  Old  Jacob  hugged 
his  knees,  rocking  back  and  forth  on  the  step. 


180  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

Close  beside  him  lay  his  rifle.  He  fully  intended 
to  use  it,  if  matters  were  driven  to  an  extremity, 
but  this  he  did  not  consider  probable. 

"  They  're  scairt,"  he  told  himself.  "  They  '11 
run  like  rabbits  when  they  see  the  Injuns." 

Presently  Constable  Ecker  and  the  sheriff,  Or 
son  Money,  rode  up  and  drew  their  horses  by  the 
side  of  Snyder's  buggy.  Gitty  noticed  the  four 
men  staring  in  the  direction  of  the  barn.  Her 
father,  crouched  on  the  step,  grinned  as  he  gazed 
after  them.  She  ran  to  a  side  window,  and  re 
versed  the  shutter  slats.  She  saw  eight  or  ten 
Indians  leave  the  barn,  march  down  the  lane  to  the 
road,  and,  crossing  it,  proceed  through  the  pasture 
where  the  cattle  were  grazing,  to  a  grove  of  trees 
on  the  rising  ground.  More  followed  them,  and 
more,  until  nearly  two  hundred  men  had  collected 
in  the  wood. 

After  a  little  further  hesitation  Money  and  the 
constable  rode  along  the  line  of  onlookers  by  the 
fence.  They  spoke  aside  to  several  who,  with 
marked  reluctance,  followed  them  to  the  bars. 
Ecker  let  them  down.  He  and  the  sheriff  rode 
into  the  meadow,  and  the  men  on  foot  followed. 
Mr.  Van  Zandt  and  Tobe  Snyder  came  last  of  all. 
Immediately  the  Indians  appeared.  In  single 
file,  each  carrying  a  rifle,  the  masked  men  trod  the 
soft  grass,  in  slow  procession  toward  the  bars.  The 
hot  noon  sun  fell  pitilessly  upon  their  grotesque 
dress,  making  of  the  absurd  show  an  ill-timed 
jest.  Gitty,  surveying  them  breathlessly  from  her 
hiding-place,  could  not  believe  any  serious  action 


HAGER'S  SALE  181 

possible  to  these  mummers.  "  I  wonder  which  is 
Almiran  ?  "  was  her  most  imperious  thought. 

As  the  men  filed  down  the  gentle  incline  to  the 
fence,  Mr.  Van  Zandt  strode  toward  their  leader. 
"  You  understand  the  law  "  —he  began. 

"  Damn  the  law,"  replied  Big  Thunder. 

"  You  are  aware  that  you  break  it  by  assuming 
these  disguises  ?  " 

"  I  say,  damn  the  law.    We  are  here  to  break  it." 

Another  Indian  impatiently  called,  "  Do  you 
mean  to  bid  on  them  cattle,  Lawyer  Van  Zandt  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  promptly. 

"  If  you  do,  you  '11  be  carried  home  feet  foremost. 
I  warn  you." 

Van  Zandt  threw  out  his  hand  in  angry  deci 
sion.  "  I  shall  say  no  more,"  he  told  the  sheriff. 

As  the  Indians  came  into  sight,  old  Jacob  had 
disappeared  into  the  house.  Gitty  heard  him 
stamping  his  way  through  the  buttery,  and  the 
slamming  of  doors  as  he  unlocked  a  closet  there. 
By  and  by  she  spied  him  coming  back  around  the 
corner  of  the  vestibule.  With  one  hand  he  tugged 
at  a  pail  of  whiskey  in  which  a  dipper  bobbed  up 
and  down.  In  the  crook  of  his  left  arm  he  held 
his  rifle. 

He  crossed  the  road  with  his  burden,  and  passed 
the  pail  along  the  line  of  Indians.  Many  drank 
eagerly.  Perhaps  some  hearts  needed  strengthen 
ing,  as  they  began  to  realize  how  far  they  were  go 
ing,  pushed  on  by  their  leaders,  and  by  the  fatal 
excitement  of  mere  numbers. 

Money  now  announced  the  opening  of  the  sale. 


182  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

He  and  the  constable,  followed  by  their  support 
ers  on  foot,  rode  toward  the  cattle.  The  men  all 
looked  haggard  and  distressed.  The  Indians,  at 
a  whispered  direction  sent  from  one  to  another, 
began  to  move. 

Ecker  was  singling  out  an  ox.  "  Not  that  one," 
expostulated  the  lawyer.  "  You  can't  take  a  beast 
of  the  plough." 

"  Drive  up  the  cows,"  ordered  the  sheriff.  "  Be 
quick,  Job." 

"  All  right,"  said  Tobe  Snyder.    "  Here  we  are." 

He  had  swiftly  collected  a  little  drove  of  cattle. 
"  Run  to  the  bars,"  he  called  to  one  of  the  towns 
people  whom  they  had  pressed  into  their  service  ; 
"  let  'em  down  so  as  I  can  git  these  critters  out." 

"  Look  behind  you,"  said  the  man  in  a  low  voice. 

Snyder  glanced  over  his  shoulder.  "  They  mean 
fight,"  he  muttered  to  the  sheriff. 

The  Indians  had  formed  three  sides  of  a  square, 
inclosing  the  cattle,  the  two  men  on  horseback, 
and  those  beside  them  on  foot.  At  the  first  step 
toward  the  bars,  Big  Thunder  cried,  — 

"  Drop  that !     Don't  you  touch  them  rails." 

Ecker  at  once  rode  forward. 

"Nor  you,  either,  Job  Ecker,"  added  White 
Cloud.  "  Don't  you  dare  to  let  down  them  bars." 

Money  advanced  to  his  side.  Tobe  Snyder  ran 
between  the  two  mounted  men. 

"  Shoot  the  horses !  "  Big  Thunder  shouted. 

"  Shoot  him  !  "  called  another  voice. 

There  was  an  instantaneous  report.  A  volley 
had  been  fired.  Ecker's  horse  uttered  a  frightful 


HAGER'S  SALE  183 

scream  and  tumbled  over,  pitching  his  rider  to  the 
ground.  Another  round  of  shot  followed.  Mo 
ney's  horse  fell  in  merciful,  instant  death.  Ecker's 
was  rolling  in  agony  on  the  grass  when  it  was  killed 
by  the  second  firing. 

"  Snyder  's  down,"  called  some  one. 

Half  stunned,  Money  stumbled  up  from  the 
grass.  Ecker  was  already  on  his  feet.  Van  Zandt 
and  the  others  came  running  together.  Tobe 
Snyder  lay  on  his  face. 

The  Indians  stood  motionless.  There  was  no 
attempt  to  refire,  but  Money,  completely  unnerved, 
appealed  to  them  over  the  prostrate  body. 

"  For  God's  sake,  stop  !  "  he  cried.  "  Hain't  ye 
done  enough  ?  " 

No  one  answered.     No  one  moved. 

"  He  's  breathing,"  announced  the  lawyer  after 
an  awful  moment.  "  I  can  feel  his  heart  beat. 
He  is  n't  dead  — yet." 

A  great  sigh  seemed  to  go  up  in  a  breath  of 
general  relief.  Several  Indians  came  forward. 
"  Shall  we  help  carry  him  to  the  wagon  ?  " 

They  recoiled  from  the  nearer  sight  of  that  white, 
fixed  face. 

"  There  's  no  carrying  him  far,"  Van  Zandt  an 
swered  curtly.  "  Take  him  into  Hager's." 

Old  Jacob  stood  outside  the  bars,  his  empty 
pail  in  one  hand,  the  rifle  still  hugged  in  his  other 
arm.  He  stared  stupidly  at  the  ghastly  proces 
sion,  moving  aside  mechanically  to  allow  them  to 
pass.  He  plucked  a  follower  by  the  sleeve.  "  Is 
he  dead  ?  "  he  inquired. 


184  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"  Lawyer  Van  Zandt  says  —  not  yet." 

"  Where  they  goin'  ?  " 

"  To  your  house.  You  'd  better  run  on  ahead 
and  get  things  ready." 

Jacob's  spirits  rose  as  he  heard  a  groan  from 
Tobe  Snyder.  "  I  guess  I  shan't  go,"  he  retorted, 
"  not  unless  I  'm  a  min'ter." 

He  hurried  on,  nevertheless,  to  the  porch,  and 
raised  a  cry  for  his  wife.  "  Here  's  a  sick  man," 
said  he.  "  You  hurry  an'  put  him  to  bed." 

Gitty  hastened  out  to  join  her  mother.  Old 
Jacob  pushed  past  them  both  and  shut  the  kitchen 
door  behind  him. 

He  sat  there,  hour  after  hour,  hearing  the  coming 
and  going  of  doctors,  the  arrival  and  departure  of 
many  feet.  But  he  did  not  move.  It  was  dark 
before  his  wife  opened  the  door. 

"  That  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Yes." 

"  Well  ?  "    A  pause.    "  That  man  any  better  ?  " 

"No,"  she  said. 

"He  ain't?     Ishewuss?" 

"  No,"  Maria  repeated.     "  He  is  dead." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

BREAKING    THE    LAW 

"  The  wrong  that  amendeth  wrong." 

JACOB  blinked  through  the  dusk  at  the  figure 
dimly  outlined  in  the  doorway. 

"  Ye  don't  understand  who  I  mean,"  he  said. 
"  I  mean  Tobe  Snyder." 

"  Yes,  I  know.     He  's  dead." 

She  added  no  word  to  this  announcement.  Jacob 
moistened  his  lips  with  his  tongue. 

"  How  long  sence  ?  " 

"  Not  ten  minutes  ago.     I  came  right  here." 

He  drew  one  hand  slowly  back  and  forth  across 
his  knee.  "  I  did  n't  s'pose  he  was  goin'  to  die." 

Maria  affected  not  to  hear  this  remark.  She 
stood  across  the  room,  a  wraith  in  the  gathering 
gloom.  "  Father,"  she  began,  in  a  high-pitched, 
wailing  tone,  "  you  've  got  to  run  away." 

"  What  I  got  'o  run  away  for  ?  " 

She  uttered  an  hysterical  scream,  then  stifled  it 
with  her  hands  over  her  mouth.  "  Don't  you  see  ?" 
she  hissed  in  a  sibilant  whisper.  "  You  might  be 
hung  for  this." 

Old  Jacob  rose  stiffly  from  his  chair.  "  What 
ud  I  be  hung  for  ?  " 


186  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"  Oh,  be  quiet !  You  ask  so  many  questions ! 
For  killing  the  sheriff." 

"  I  did  n't  kill  him." 

"  That  don't  make.  I  guess  you  're  as  deep  in 
the  mud  as  they  are  in  the  mire,"  his  wife  retorted 
wearily,  custom  preserving  its  familiar  expression 
in  this  strange  crisis.  "  You  got  to  run  away,"  she 
repeated  inflexibly. 

Old  Jacob  moved  restlessly  from  side  to  side, 
peering  about  him  at  the  surroundings  of  his  life 
time,  which  it  needed  no  light  to  see.  "  I  don't 
want  'o  run  away,"  he  urged. 

"  God  help  us  !  "  cried  Maria  suddenly,  with  a 
singular  new  fierceness.  "  Can't  you  do  what  you 
don't  want  to,  even  to  save  your  life  ?  You  got  to 
run  away." 

The  persistency  of  the  phrase  had  at  length  pen 
etrated  the  man's  brain. 

"  All  right,"  he  answered  almost  gently.  "  You 
neenter  scold  so.  I  'm  going."  He  crossed  the 
room  to  the  door.  Maria  did  not  move. 

He  lifted  the  latch.     "  Good-by,"  said  he. 

Even  in  his  days  of  wooing  uncouth  and  heav 
ily  facetious,  Maria  Hager  had  known  him,  at  his 
best  and  his  worst,  as  boy  and  man,  for  many  years. 
And  to  her  that  farewell  was  as  tender,  as  unex 
pected,  as  a  kiss.  Surprise  silenced  her  for  a  sec 
ond.  Then  she  breathed  an  answering  "  Good-by." 

The  door  creaked  and  closed.  She  flung  her 
apron  over  her  head  to  conceal  her  face,  though 
she  stood  alone  in  the  darkening  kitchen. 

Meanwhile   Jacob   pushed   on   into  the   night, 


BREAKING  THE  LAW  187 

without  a  notion  in  which  direction  to  go,  nor  of  a 
refuge  to  seek.  His  days  had  been  spent  within 
the  boundaries  of  that  farm,  clinging  closer  to  its 
seclusion  as  the  years  went  by.  To  him,  well 
known  as  was  Farley  in  one  way,  in  another  it  was 
an  unexplored  region.  His  instinct  was  to  get  as 
far  as  possible  from  home.  He  followed  the  path 
to  the  barn,  and  went  down  the  lane  to  the  bars. 
So  he  traversed  the  pasture  where  Gitty  was  wont 
to  meet  Almiran.  He  lingered  at  the  rail  fence  in 
a  childish  bewilderment. 

"  I  vum,"  said  he  aloud,  "  I  can't  think  o'  any 
wheres  to  go." 

The  woods  on  the  opposite  hill  attracted  his 
wandering  eyes.  "  I  guess  I  could  hide  'mongst 
them  trees,"  he  concluded. 

There  were  nooks,  certainly,  in  which  he  might 
be  safe  from  sight.  But  after  he  had  ensconced 
himself  in  the  hollow  where,  two  months  before, 
Phe  Colton  defied  the  Indians,  Jacob  found  his 
position  as  fugitive  becoming  harder  moment  by 
moment.  Until  this  settling  himself  for  the  night 
he  had  been  too  flurried,  too  frightened,  to  fully 
appreciate  the  situation.  Now  when  he  endeav 
ored  to  rest  without  bed  or  cover,  when  his  old 
bones  ached  on  the  rough  ground,  when  he  could 
not  sleep  for  lack  of  the  crude  comforts  to  which 
he  was  accustomed,  he  grew,  first  self-pitiful,  after 
wards  restive,  and  finally  indignant. 

"  By  gum !  "  he  ejaculated,  sitting  upright  on 
the  pine  needles,  "  I  ain't  goin'  to  be  treated  this 
way  no  lo'hger.  I  won't  stand  it." 


188  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

He  staggered  to  his  feet,  shaking  himself  like  a 
dog  coming  out  of  the  water.  "  I  ain't  goin'  to 
stand  it,"  he  repeated. 

But  he  did  not  dare  go  home. 

Phe  Colton  was  gathering  huckleberries  the  next 
morning  on  the  rocky  ledge  in  her  father's  wood 
lot.  Her  face  was  distressed.  Every  one  knew 
by  this  time  of  the  deputy  sheriff's  death,  that  offi 
cers  were  scouring  the  country  for  those  implicated 
in  the  murder.  As  she  stripped  the  berries  from 
the  bush  she  was  thinking  of  Matt  Hager  —  as 
was  generally  the  case  —  but  now  in  the  light  of 
his  trouble. 

"I  wish  I  could  see  Almiran,"  she  reflected. 
"  He  would  tell  me  all  about  it.  And  I  don't 
like  to  question  father." 

A  rustling  noise  in  the  shrubs  near  by  wrung 
from  her  a  little  scream. 

"  Why,  how  nervous  I  am  !  "  she  derided  herself, 
and  laughed.  "  One  would  think  I  was  afraid." 

"  Hist,"  whistled  a  low  voice  close  to  her  ear. 

Phe  dropped  her  pail  in  the  start  she  gave. 

"Who's  that?" 

"  Hist,"  the  warning  voice  repeated  ;  "  it 's  me." 

Jacob  Hager  thrust  his  head  through  a  blue 
berry  bush. 

"Oh,"  cried  Phoebe,  "what  are  you  doing 
there." 

"  Hidin',"  said  he. 

"  Have  they  -  You  don't  "  —  She  could  not 
finish  her  sentence.  "  Were  you  obliged  to  leave 
home,  Mr.  Hager?" 


BREAKING  THE  LAW  189 

"  Yes,"  he  assented  gruffly.  "  Darn  sech  fool 
ishness  !  'T  wan't  me  done  it.  But  for  all  that, 
I  dassent  go  back." 

He  set  this  before  her  in  the  form  of  a  griev 
ance.  She  ignored  what  he  said,  and  went  on  to 
the  practical  present  consideration.  "  Have  you 
had  anything  to  eat  ?  " 

"  Not  a  mouffle.  Nothin'  but  some  berries  an' 
a  few  apples.  An'  them  was  sour." 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  the  girl  proposed.  "  I  '11  run 
down  to  the  house  and  get  you  something." 

"  Don't  ye  tell  nobuddy  where  I  be." 

"No,  no.  Of  course  not.  You  can  trust  me, 
Mr.  Hager.  And  I  won't  be  gone  long." 

She  hastened  along  the  ridge,  disappearing  be 
hind  the  trees.  Old  Jacob  lay  on  his  back  under 
the  bushes,  chewing  a  wintergreen  leaf  and,  as  the 
summer  sunshine  soaked  into  his  rheumatic  mus 
cles,  entertaining  a  vague  sense  of  comfort  while 
he  awaited  his  breakfast. 

When  Phe  returned  with  her  hands  full  of 
Jemima's  delicious  bread  and  butter,  he  fell  upon 
it  with  gusto,  and  felt,  after  the  last  crumb  was 
gone,  the  reviving  courage  of  a  satisfied  appetite. 

"  Guess  I  '11  jog  along,"  he  announced,  rising 
awkwardly. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  I  do'  know.  Somewheres  else.  This  ain't  no 
hidin'-place." 

"No,"  Phoabe  agreed,  "I  don't  think  it  is, 
myself.  Let  me  see,  Mr.  Hager  —  you  might  slip 
down  the  back  way  to  our  barn." 


190  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

"  Cuss  a  barn  !  "  Jacob  shuffled  his  feet  impa 
tiently.  "  Folks  are  always  runnin'  in  an'  out  a 
barn." 

"  Well,  that  is  so.  Then  —  there  are  the  woods 
over  here." 

"  Oh,  damn  the  woods,"  cried  Jacob  in  sudden 
fury.  "You  jus'  try  sleepin'  in  'em  once." 

Phe  eyed  him  with  a  gentle  solicitude.  A  pit 
eous  figure  in  himself,  as  Matt  Hager's  father  he 
appealed  irresistibly  to  her  heart.  "  You  want  to 
get  under  a  roof  somewhere,"  she  suggested.  "  Is 
that  the  idea  ?  " 

"  I  tell  ye,  you  jus'  try  sleepin'  out  o'  doors." 

"  Yes,  but  then  —  I  don't  see  —  Oh,  Mr.  Hager, 
I  know,  I  know !  " 

"  Well,  what  ?  " 

"  There  's  our  church,  the  Episcopal  church.  I 
have  a  key  because  I  attend  to  the  flowers,  and 
we  do  up  Mr.  Wakefield's  surplice.  It  would  n't 
be  a  bit  strange  for  me  to  go  in  at  any  time  of 
day.  I  can  hide  you  in  the  pulpit.  It  would  be 
a  lovely  place." 

Jacob  surveyed  her  with  what  closely  approached 
defiance.  "  How  ye  goin'  to  git  me  there  ?  "  he 
demanded. 

Phe  was  disconcerted  by  this  objection.  "  I 
forgot  that  part,"  she  acknowledged.  "  We  shall 
have  to  ask  some  help." 

"  Don't  ye  tell  nobuddy." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Hager,  I  was  thinking  of  Almiran 
Sweet.  You  would  n't  mind  his  knowing,  would 
you?" 


BREAKING  THE   LAW  191 

Jacob  hesitated,  solely  because  it  was  hard  to 
accept  a  proposition  which  did  not  come  from  him 
self.  Phe  considered  him  merely  cautious,  and 
continued,  "  You  see,  I  could  n't  go  to  the  church 
at  night.  That  would  look  odd.  And,  as  you  say, 
there  is  danger  in  taking  you  there  by  daylight. 
But  I  will  lend  Almiran  my  key  so  that  he  can 
smuggle  you  in,  after  dark.  To-morrow  I  '11  come, 
and  bring  you  a  basket  of  food.  And  we  '11  plan, 
Almiran  and  I,  what  next  to  do.  Would  n't  that 
be  the  best  way  ?  Don't  you  agree  to  it  ?  " 

Jacob  grumbled,  "  I  guess  so." 

"  You  're  not  afraid  of  Almiran  ?  He  would  n't 
tell." 

"  No,"  he  replied  in  the  same  ungracious  fashion. 
"  I  can't  say  as  I  'm  afraid  of  Almiran." 

Supposing  Almiran  to  be  enrolled  among  the 
Uprenters,  Phe  never  thought  of  him  as  having 
occasion,  in  his  own  person,  to  fear  the  hand  of  the 
law.  Jacob,  who  was  ignorant  of  his  defection, 
was  still  too  bewildered,  too  self -en  grossed,  to  re 
member  that  every  man  who  had  sometime  fig 
ured  as  an  Indian  might  be  forced,  in  this  emer 
gency,  to  flight.  As  for  himself,  Almiran  did  not, 
so  far,  give  heed  to  his  own  danger.  After  joining 
the  maskers,  he  had  been  excited,  swept  along  by 
the  others.  But  his  rifle  was  not  fired,  and  per 
fectly  disguised,  taking  no  part  in  the  dispute  save 
that  of  an  onlooker,  it  never  occurred  to  him  that 
he  could  be  regarded  as  an  accomplice. 

Phe  found  a  temporary  resting-place  for  her  un 
grateful  charge,  and  thereupon  took  the  path  over 


192  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

the  hill  by  which  old  Jacob  had  come  to  her.  At 
the  edge  of  the  woods  she  turned  northward,  and 
climbed  a  fence  defining  Orrin  Sweet's  field  of 
oats.  She  was  pushing  her  way  ruthlessly  through 
the  grain  when  a  distant  sight  attracted  her  atten 
tion.  Surely  it  was  Almiran's  battered  hat,  his 
suit  of  blue  jean  overalls  farther  along  by  the 
fence. 

She  raised  her  voice  in  a  sweet,  shrill  halloo. 

"  Oh,  Almiran !     Oh,  Almiran  !     Is  that  you  ?  " 

At  the  fence  angle  where  he  had  given  the  bird 
cry  that  should  signal  to  Gitty  Hager,  he  wheeled 
about  and  saw  the  girl  running  along  the  field  to 
meet  him. 

"  Wait,"  he  called  hurriedly ;  "  I  '11  come  there." 

"  No.  You  wait."  She  drew  nearer.  "  This 
is  a  good,  safe  place  to  talk.  We  can  be  sure 
there  is  nobody  about  to  listen.  Almiran,"  -  —  she 
was  close  at  hand,  —  "  what  do  you  suppose  ?  I 
have  somebody  up  there  on  the  hill.  I  want  you 
to  help  me  hide  him." 

Almiran  scowled.  This  innocent,  pure-faced 
girl,  who  despised  the  Indians,  who  to  him  had 
always  stood  upon  a  pinnacle  above  these  coun 
try  people  —  himself  and  the  others  —  should  not 
descend  to  aid  Anti-rent  now  that  it  was  stained 
with  blood. 

"  Is  it  one  of  them  scamps  that  killed  Tobe 
Snyder  ?  "  he  asked.  "  You  know  it 's  against  the 
law  to  conceal  a  criminal." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  that,"  she  answered.  "  Why, 
Almiran,  it 's  Mr.  Hager !  " 


BREAKING  THE   LAW  193 

The  listener's  face  changed.  "  Oh,  well !  If 
that's  the  case  —  I  suppose  we  must  do  some 
thing." 

"  Yes,  and  I  '11  tell  you  what."  She  began  her 
story  animatedly.  He  nodded  approval  from  time 
to  time. 

"  I  see.  I  see.  That  would  be  all  right.  We  'd 
have  to  git  him  out  before  Sunday,  o'  course. v 

"  Of  course.  This  only  gives  us  a  few  days 
to  look  around.  Oh,  dear  !  I  wish  I  could  tell 
father." 

"  Don't  you  tell  another  soul,"  was  Almiran's 
admonition. 

"  There  comes  Gitty,  this  moment,"  Phe  whis 
pered  excitedly.  "  Could  n't  we  just  let  her  into 
the  secret?  They  must  be  in  such  a  state  of 
mind." 

Almiran  did  not  hear  the  question.  He  fol 
lowed  the  direction  of  Phe's  eyes  and  watched 
Gitty's  approach.  She  was  coming,  he  knew,  in 
answer  to  his  summons.  His  heart  sank  as  he  saw 
her,  on  her  way  through  the  pasture,  glance  toward 
them,  look  again,  and  stop.  She  threw  back  her 
slat  bonnet  to  stare  at  the  angle  of  the  fence. 
Then,  with  a  haughty  gesture  that  was  like  Matt, 
she  turned  her  back  upon  them.  She  would  not 
make  three  where  Phe  Colton  was  one  of  the  two. 

"  Gitty !  "  Almiran  called  in  desperation. 
"Gitty!  Gitty  Hager!  Come  here." 

She  walked  straight  on,  as  if  she  had  not  heard. 
He  uttered  a  groan  of  impotence,  and  turned  again 
to  Phe. 


194  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"  Well,  give  us  the  key,"  he  said. 

Early  on  the  following  morning,  Phe  left  Henry 
at  the  board  walk,  under  the  maple  trees,  while  he 
drove  on  to  Mix's ;  and  she  carried  the  freshly 
laundered  clerical  vestments  into  the  vestry-room. 
Over  one  arm  hung  the  snowy  linen  ;  in  the  pocket 
tied  around  her  waist  beneath  her  gown  was  all 
the  food  she  could  take  without  detection  from 
the  pantry.  She  ran  up  the  steps,  and  pulled  from 
her  recticule  the  key  Almiran  had  returned  to  her 
the  night  before.  With  a  little  thrill  of  excite 
ment,  she  heard  it  grate  in  the  ponderous  lock. 

She  entered  the  building  with  reverent  feet, 
passing  softly  down  the  aisle,  in  the  solemn  still 
ness.  Pausing  before  the  rail  she  spoke. 

"  It  is  I,  Phe  Colton." 

There  was  no  response. 

She  waited  for  a  time,  staring  at  the  pulpit. 
Momentarily  she  expected  to  see  above  it  the  old 
hat  and  the  grizzled  head.  But  there  was  no  stir 
and  no  sound. 

"  Maybe  he  's  asleep,"  Phe  thought. 

She  opened  the  door  to  the  vestry-room,  and 
laid  the  surplice  out  upon  the  table.  Then  she 
climbed  the  narrow  flight  of  stairs. 

"  I  '11  have  to  wake  him,"  she  said  to  herself. 

She  threw  wide  the  door,  and  peeped  around  it. 
The  pulpit  was  empty. 


CHAPTER  XX 
OLD  JACOB'S  MATCH 

"  The  elementary  laws  never  apologize." 

WE  have  all  sometimes  been  punished,  and 
have  punished  others,  not  because  the  offense  was 
unpardonable,  but  because  it  came  as  the  last  drop 
in  a  brimming  cup  of  bitterness.  Gitty  Hager 
went  to  the  meeting  with  Almiran,  dazed  by  this 
new  distress,  having  no  one  else  to  whom  to  look 
for  comfort,  feeling  it  the  sole  faint  ray  of  happi 
ness  in  her  despair.  To  find  her  rival  engrossing 
Alrniran's  attention,  beguiling  him  in  this,  Gitty's 
hour  of  anguish,  with  her  beauty  —  that  was  too 
much  to  bear. 

The  girl's  tortured  soul  refused  to  accept  its  new 
burden  of  jealousy.  She  retraced  her  steps  with 
head  erect  and  scornful  air.  It  was  only  as  she 
drew  near  home  that  she  began  to  take  another 
view  of  the  occurrence,  and  to  regret  her  action. 

"  It  may  not  have  been  so  bad,  after  all,"  she 
reflected,  with  something  like  insight  into  the  facts. 
"  Phe  is  real  good.  Perhaps  they  were  only  talk 
ing  over  what  we  could  do.  And  I  must  see  him. 
I  guess  I  'd  better  run  back,  after  all." 

It  was  hard  for  the  Hager  nature  to  be  placed 


196  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

in  a  position  where  pity  could  be  meted  out,  and 
aid  must  be  implored.  Yet  there  are  times  so 
tremendous  that  they  dwarf  every  ordinary  con 
sideration.  Gitty  hurried  down  to  the  bars,  ready 
to  forgive.  There  she  paused.  It  was  too  late. 
Phe  and  Almiran  had  disappeared. 

She  retraced  her  steps  to  the  house,  to  witness 
her  mother's  restrained  suffering,  to  plod  drearily 
along  the  round  of  housework  that  must  be  done, 
and  the  tasks  she  attacked,  not  because  they  were 
necessary,  but  as  serving  to  tire  out  the  body  and 
so  in  a  measure  to  relieve  the  strain  upon  her  mind. 

She  saw  that  the  house  was  watched,  and  under 
stood  why  Almiran  could  not  openly  visit  them. 
She  had,  however,  a  faint  hope  that  he  might  take 
advantage  of  the  darkness  to  come  to  them.  He 
must  understand,  so  she  said  wildly  to  herself, 
how  dire  was  their  need  of  counsel.  Unwitting 
what  occupied  Almiran's  time  that  night,  she 
waited,  starting  at  every  sound,  throughout  the 
evening,  while  he  was  conveying  her  father  to  the 
church,  disposing  of  him  there,  and  hurrying  to 
Phe  Colton  with  the  key.  When  bedtime  came  to 
the  two  lonely  women,  Gitty's  desperation  found 
expression. 

"  Mother,"  she  began,  "  I  've  been  thinking  — 
What  if  I  go  over  to  Cousin  Mark's  to-morrow 
morning,  and  have  a  talk  with  Matt  ?  " 

Mrs.  Hager  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  box-couch, 
her  hands  crossed  upon  her  lap.  Gitty  suddenly 
realized  that  she  had  never  before  seen  her  mother's 
hands  empty  and  idle. 


OLD  JACOB'S  MATCH  197 

"  I  don't  believe  it  would  do  any  good,"  she  re 
plied  in  a  flat,  monotonous  voice. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know !  I  could  tell  him  how 
things  were.  I  could  ask  him  what  to  do." 

"  There  is  n't  anything  to  do,"  Maria  declared. 
"  We  've  just  got  to  stand  it.  And  why  does  n't 
Matt  come  to  see  us,  instead  of  your  running  after 
him?" 

"  Why,  you  remember,  mother !  He  said  he 
would  n't.  You  don't  expect  Matt  Hager  ever  to 
break  his  word  ?  " 

Maria  moved  her  head  from  one  side  to  the 
other  in  a  fretful  gesture,  as  one  might  do  if  tor 
mented  by  a  cloud  of  gnats. 

"  I  don't  expect  anything  but  trouble,"  she 
lamented,  "and  trouble  right  on  till  I  die.  I've 
always  had  it,  and  I  suppose  I  always  will." 

"  But,  mother  —  don't  you  think  it  would  be 
better  to  ask  Matt  what  to  do  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't.  There  is  n't  anything  to  do. 
And  Matt 's  real  hard  to  keep  away  from  me,  at 
such  a  time  as  this.  I  don't  care,  though,  if  you 

go-" 

Gitty  understood  this  speech.  Her  mother  de 
sired  such  relief  as  lay  in  scolding,  but  she  did 
not  wish  thereby  to  prohibit  any  assistance  Matt 
might  give  them.  So  the  next  morning,  the  girl, 
after  struggling  with  "  the  chores,"  saddled  Billy, 
and  rode  to  the  Mayham  place.  She  was  aware 
that  the  man  lounging  in  the  road,  near  the  house, 
must  witness  her  departure.  So  she  assumed  a 
bold  demeanor,  and  saluted  him  as  she  cantered  by. 


198  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

"  I  'm  going  over  to  Squire  Mayham's.  My 
brother  is  there,  and  I  want  to  talk  to  him." 

The  officer  nodded.  "  I  do  feel  for  the  women 
folks,"  he  muttered. 

Gitty  left  her  horse  with  a  boy  at  the  stable, 
and  walked,  through  the  sunny  paths  of  the  old 
garden,  up  to  her  cousin's  door.  Miss  Azubah  had 
seen  her  from  a  window,  and  appeared  between 
the  Corinthian  pillars  of  the  high  front  porch. 
She  stretched  out  her  arms  in  welcome. 

"  You  poor,  dear  child,"  she  exclaimed,  kissing 
the  girl  on  each  cheek.  "  My  heart  has  gone  out 
to  you  and  Maria.  How  does  she  bear  up?  " 

So  complex  is  human  nature  that  Gitty  felt  a 
vague  but  positive  sensation  of  importance,  of  a 
theatric  quality  in  the  unusual  happening,  of 
a  pose,  miserable,  to  be  sure,  and  yet  of  distinc 
tion. 

"  I  don't  see  what  we  '11  any  of  us  do,"  she  re 
plied,  fanning  herself  with  her  bonnet.  "  Mother  's 
almost  crazy.  Is  Matt  in  the  house,  Miss  Azu 
bah  ?  I  'd  like  to  see  him  if  I  can." 

"  He  is  with  Marcus.  You  know  your  cousin 
lies  at  the  point  of  death." 

This  was  said  with  a  touch  of  reproach.  The 
Squire's  condition  —  as  real  a  grief  as  Gitty  's  — 
had  been  Miss  Azubah's  chief  interest  of  late.  It 
seemed  hard  to  see  it  swallowed  up  in  the  greater 
tragedy  of  Hager's  sale. 

"  I  declare,"  cried  Gitty,  conscience-smitten, 
"  I  'd  clear  forgotten  Cousin  Mark.  He  is  n't  any 
better,  then  ?  " 


OLD  JACOB'S  MATCH  199 

"  He  is  weaker  if  anything  to-day.  And  he 
won't  let  Mathice  out  of  his  sight.  He  wanders  in 
his  mind.  He  thinks  that  Matt  is  his  brother 
Charles  —  the  one  that  died  when  he  was  eleven 
years  old.  If  Matt  leaves  the  room,  he  begins  to 
whimper,  '  I  want  Charlie  to  come  and  play  with 
me.'  The  doctor  says  we  must  humor  him.  It 's 
bad  for  his  heart  if  he  's  excited.  I  doubt  whether 
Matt  could  get  away." 

Gitty  stood,  bewildered,  before  the  fluttering 
little  old  lady  in  her  rustling  gown  and  prim  lace 
lappets.  It  was  startling,  to  her  complete  pre 
occupation,  to  thus  discover  another  household  as 
absorbed  in  its  own  affairs. 

"  Why,  it  seems  as  if  I  must  see  him,"  she 
faltered.  "  I  don't  know,  Miss  Azubah,"  with  a 
sob  under  her  voice,  —  "I  don't  know  how  to  get 
along,  without  somebody  to  talk  to." 

"  You  poor  child !  You  are  worn  out.  Come 
into  the  hall,  where  it 's  cool  and  quiet.  And  I  '11 
have  Joe  bring  us  each  a  glass  of  wine.  It  will 
do  us  both  good.  And  then  I  '11  see.  If  Marcus 
should  chance  to  be  asleep,  perhaps  I  could  call 
Mathice.  But  you  know  it  will  be  a  long  story. 
He  has  n't  heard  a  word." 

Gitty  ceased  the  flapping  of  her  bonnet.  "  Matt 
has  n't  heard  ?  "  she  repeated.  "  Does  n't  he  know 
about  —  about  the  deputy  sheriff  ?  " 

"  Not  yet.  You  see  he  has  been  shut  up  in  that 
sick-room,  where  he  had  no  chance  to  hear." 

The  girl  sank  back  in  the  high,  stiff  chair  on 
which  she  had  thrown  herself.  "  Oh,  well  then," 


200  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

she  exclaimed  wearily,  "  maybe  he  could  n't  be 
spared  —  so  long  !  I  did  n't  understand.  I  sup 
posed  you  'd  all  be  talking  about  it  over  here,  the 
same  as  everywhere  in  Farley." 

"  You  forgot  about  Marcus  Tullius,"  was  the 
somewhat  stern  response.  "  We  all  have  our 
separate  cares  in  this  world.  Now  sit  still,  child, 
and  rest.  I  '11  run  upstairs,  and  listen  at  the 
door,  while  Joe  is  bringing  the  wine.  I  won't 
be  gone  a  moment.  Here 's  a  cricket  for  your 
feet." 

In  her  gentle,  motherly  fashion,  she  made  her 
tired  guest  comfortable  before  disappearing  up  the 
broad,  winding  staircase  to  the  passage  above. 
Black  Joe  came,  grinning  and  bowing,  to  set  his 
silver  tray  upon  the  table  at  Gitty's  elbow,  and 
urge  its  contents  upon  her  with  simple  kindliness. 
Miss  Azubah  reappeared  directly.  She  shook  her 
head  as  she  descended  the  flight  of  stairs. 

"  He 's  wide  awake."  She  formed  the  words 
noiselessly  with  her  lips. 

Sweetly  good  as  her  nature  was,  it  possessed  a 
strain  of  determination  that  grows  strong  in  such 
soil.  Gitty  saw  at  once  it  was  useless  to  press 
her  point. 

So  she  carried  home  with  her  another  disap 
pointment.  Night  came  again  to  the  mother  and 
daughter  at  the  farm,  finding  them  unadvised  and 
uncon  soled. 

They  sat  together  in  the  kitchen,  waiting  for 
bedtime,  their  chairs  drawn  up  before  the  door  of 
the  back  porch.  Maria's  fingers  were  twisting 


OLD  JACOB'S   MATCH  201 

her  apron  into  rolls,  Gitty's  restless  hands  were 
occupied  with  a  piece  of  knitting. 

"Where  do  you  suppose  he  is?"  the  older 
woman  whispered. 

Although  both  minds  were  full  of  Jacob's  fate, 
it  was  of  Almiran  that  Gitty  thought  at  the  mo 
ment,  and  she  answered  upon  that  impulse. 

"  I  should  n't  wonder  if  he  might  come  in,  now 
that  it 's  got  dark.  Nobody  could  see,  you 
know." 

"  Do  you  suppose  so  ? "  Maria  questioned 
eagerly.  "  I  was  afraid  —  -  It  seemed  too  much 
to  expect." 

"  I  do  expect  him,"  said  Gitty  sturdily. 

"  Oh,  well,  then  —  There 's  a  step  this  minute. 
Gitty  Hager,  I  declare  it 's  his  !  " 

She  sprang  from  her  chair  and  stood  clutching 
its  back,  listening  intently. 

"  It  is,"  said  she.     "  It 's  father." 

Gitty,  as  well,  recognized  the  tread.  "  Yes," 
she  agreed.  "  It 's  father." 

The  slow  feet  pattered  along  the  floor  of  the 
porch.  Old  Jacob  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"Well?"  said  he. 

"  Is  that  you,  father  ?  "  his  wife  greeted  him. 

It  immediately  became  apparent  that  he  had  not 
returned  improved  in  temper.  Crowning  the  de 
privations  which  rendered  his  wanderings  beyond 
that  scanty  patience  to  bear,  there  was  the  mortify 
ing  consciousness  of  his  folly  in  coining  home. 
Yet  his  will  and  his  habit  had  together  been  too 
strong  for  his  common  sense. 


202  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

*'  I  guess  it 's  me,"  he  snapped,  "  or  all  that 's 
left  o'  me.  What  ye  settin'  right  in  the  way  for  ? 
Can't  ye  let  a  body  in  ?  " 

He  crossed  the  threshold,  and  Gitty  closed  the 
door.  There  did  not  seem  much  to  say. 

"  I  'm  most  starved,"  he  announced.  "  Gimme 
somethin'  to  eat." 

His  daughter  silently  obeyed.  She  brought  him 
a  wooden  bowl  of  suppawn,  which  he  devoured 
greedily. 

"  Where  have  you  been,  father  ?  "  inquired  his 
wife  at  length. 

"  The  Lord  knows,"  he  answered  angrily,  sput 
tering  over  his  food.  "  I  been  all  over.  Lived 
like  a  dog." 

"  Where  'd  you  sleep  nights  ?  " 

"  I  did  n't  sleep  nowheres,"  he  retorted. 
"  Night  before  last  I  jest  went  round  and  round 
in  Sweetses  woods.  Couldn't  git  a  wink  o'  sleep. 
An'  last  night  't  wan't  much  better.  I  was  in  a 
meetin'-house." 

"  You  were  ? "  cried  his  wife,  with  growing 
interest.  "  Do  tell !  " 

"Yes,  I  was.  In  the  Piscoble  meetin'-house  — 
in  the  pulpit.  But  I  couldn't  rest  none.  It  was 
kind  o'  turrible ;  like  bein'  in  a  coffin.  I  got  out 
a  window  'fore  daybreak,  an'  back  to  the  woods 
ag'in." 

The  women  made  no  comment  upon  this  narra 
tive.  He  glanced  uneasily  from  one  to  the  other. 
"  It 's  ridic'lous,"  he  protested.  "  I  did  n't  shoot 
Tobe  Snyder.  I  ain't  goin'  to  act  as  if  I  did.  I 


OLD  JACOB'S  MATCH  203 

ain't  goin'  to  be  drove  out  o'  my  house  like  a 
dog." 

Still  they  said  nothing.  Again  there  appeared 
no  need  of  speech. 

Old  Jacob  sat,  frowning  and  pouting  his  lips. 
"  Well,  I  guess  I  '11  git  to  bed,"  he  observed  after 
a  moment.  "  I  'm  beat  out.  I  ain't  scurcely 
closed  my  eyes  sence  —  sence  three  nights  ago." 

Maria  Hager  gave  a  little  cry.  "  Three  nights 
ago  !  "  she  repeated.  "  Oh,  if  we  could  go  back 
to  three  nights  ago  !  " 

"  Shut  up,"  said  her  husband. 

At  midnight  Maria  was  aroused  from  feverish 
dreams.  There  was  the  movement  and  the  sub 
dued  sound  of  a  wordless  struggle  going  on  close 
at  hand.  She  opened  her  eyes,  and  saw  the  glare 
of  a  lantern  held  before  them.  She  started  up  on 
her  elbow. 

Orson  Money  was  stationed  at  the  bedside, 
holding  the  light.  Two  other  men,  young  and 
strong,  had  seized  upon  old  Jacob.  His  teeth  set, 
his  face  distorted  with  rage,  he  was  wrestling  in 
their  grasp,  his  failing  force,  weakened  by  all  it 
had  lately  undergone,  utterly  powerless  against 
them.  To  the  submissive,  much  enduring  wife,  as 
she  gazed  from  those  set  features  to  the  trembling 
body  and  the  captors  who  held  it  fast,  one  swift 
thought  flew  uppermost,  over  alarm  and  distress. 
It  was  :  — 

"  Jacob  Hager,  you  've  met  your  match." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

SON   AND   FATHER 

The  toil  on  parents  spent  must  ne'er  be  called  to  mind. 

SOPHOCLES. 

MATT  could  not  remain  long  in  ignorance  of  the 
agitation  which  stirred  the  countryside.  Indeed, 
Dr.  Colton  considered  it  his  own  duty  to  enlighten 
him,  and  welcomed,  on  this  account  also,  a  decided 
improvement  in  his  patient.  Although  he  shook 
his  head  gravely  on  finding  it  was  the  upper  part 
of  the  body  to  which  the  power  of  movement  had 
returned,  there  was  an  increase  of  strength,  and 
the  Squire's  mind  seemed  clearer,  so  that  the  doc 
tor  felt  he  could  appeal  to  him. 

"  Mathice  looks  pale,"  he  observed,  glancing 
from  the  sick  man  to  his  attendants.  "  You  must 
give  him  leave  of  absence,  Squire,  so  that  he  can 
snatch  a  breath  of  fresh  air  now  and  then." 

The  invalid  at  once  displayed  that  artless  self 
ishness  of  a  frightened  man  unaccustomed  to  ill 
ness.  "  I  like  to  have  him  here,"  he  expostulated 
feebly.  "  There  is  no  saying  at  what  moment  I 
may  require  him.  I  am  in  a  very  critical  condi 
tion." 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense  !    You  are  getting  better." 

"  No,  I  am  not.     I  might  die  before  night." 


SON  AND   FATHER  205 

This  was  put  forth  more  for  reassurance  than 
assertion,  and  so  his  physician  understood  it. 
"  Why,  so  might  any  one  of  us,"  he  answered 
cheerily.  "  I  have  noticed  this  fact,  Squire,  in 
every  instance  of  a  long  illness  with  which  I  was 
acquainted.  Though  the  disease  may  be  incurable 
the  patient  outlives  many  a  man  apparently  in 
robust  health.  It  always  happens.  It  will  happen 
in  your  case." 

The  doctor  paused,  silenced  by  a  realization 
that  his  words  meant  more  than  he  sought  to  con 
vey.  Squire  Mayham  might  live  to  see  Jacob 
Hager  die.  "  I  want  to  take  Matt  back  to  Farley 
with  me,"  said  he.  "  You  really  must  let  him 
off  for  this  one  day.  There  are  matters  in  town 
demanding  his  attention." 

"  Is  it  anything  about  me  ?  " 

"  No,  no.  You  are  doing  very  well.  You  don't 
need  anything  more.  This  is  for  your  cousin, 
Mrs.  Hager." 

"  What  is  wrong  with  her  ?  " 

The  question  was  rather  perfunctory.  Squire 
Mayham  felt  too  weak  to  care  much  for  its  an 
swer.  Miss  Azubah  looked  wise  and  alarmed. 
Matt  stood,  wide-eyed,  regarding  the  doctor  with 
amazement.  "  Is  my  mother  sick  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  No,  not  that  I  know  of.  For  all  that,  you 
ought  to  go  to  see  her." 

This  satisfied  the  Squire.  He  moved  weakly 
under  his  silk  counterpane,  turning  his  face  to  the 
wall.  "  Very  well.  Don't  stay  long,  Matt,"  said 
he,  and  composed  himself  to  sleep. 


206  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

In  a  maze  of  bewilderment  Matt  followed  the 
doctor  to  the  hall  and  down  the  stairs  to  the  gar 
den.  The  absorbing  interests  of  the  sick-room 
had  wiped  all  memory  of  the  sale  from  his  mind. 
His  father  was  always  in  one  difficulty  or  another 
relative  to  that  wearisome  story  of  Anti-rent  dis 
sensions.  After  years  of  bickering,  Mathice  did 
not  suspect,  even  by  the  light  of  the  doctor's  hint, 
that  matters  had  at  last  come  to  a  crisis. 

It  was  Crazy  Dan  who  enlightened  him.  The 
carpenter  was  at  work  in  the  pleasant  old  flower 
garden,  renewing  the  rotting  props  of  a  grape- 
arbor.  He  blinked  over  his  shoulder,  in  the  strong 
sunlight,  at  the  crunching  sound  of  footsteps  on 
the  gravel  path.  The  sight  of  Matt  doubtless  re 
called  to  him  the  events  of  the  past  few  days. 
Stretching  forth  one  arm  in  his  favorite  attitude 
of  harangue,  he  declaimed,  — 

"  I,  even  I  only,  remain  a  prophet  of  the  Lord. 
When  the  word  of  the  prophet  shall  come  to  pass, 
then  shall  the  prophet  be  known,  that  the  Lord 
hath  truly  sent  him.  One  woe  is  past,  and,  behold, 
there  come  two  woes  more  hereafter.  For  I  the 
Lord  thy  God  am  a  jealous  God,  visiting  the  ini 
quity  of  the  fathers  upon  the  children.  Blood  be 
upon  your  own  head."  He  pointed  toward  Ma 
thice.  "  What  hast  thou  done  ?  The  voice  of  thy 
brother's  blood  crieth  unto  Me  from  the  ground." 

Matt  flung  back  his  head  defiantly,  confronting 
the  lunatic.  He  was  aware  that  every  rambling 
speech  had  a  certain  foundation  in  fact.  "  What 
does  he  mean  ?  "  he  angrily  asked  the  doctor. 


SON  AND   FATHER  207 

"  I  suppose  —  I  am  not  sure  —  this  that  has 
happened  to  your  father." 

"What  is  that?" 

"  He  was  arrested  last  night,  Mathice.  Have 
you  forgotten  the  sale  ?  " 

Matt  rubbed  his  forehead,  staring  at  the  ques 
tioner.  "  I  had  forgotten.  Was  there  trouble?  " 

"  Yes,  my  boy.     The  very  worst." 

"  You  don't  mean  "  — 

Crazy  Dan  strove  to  interrupt  them  here  with  a 
further  torrent  of  scriptural  quotation.  Neither 
one  heeded  him.  "  I  mean,  Mathice,  that  the 
deputy  sheriff  was  killed.  They  are  making  ar 
rests  right  and  left.  Your  father  is  among  the 
prisoners,  although  he  declares  his  innocence." 

Matt's  piercing  eyes  left  the  doctor's  face.  He 
looked  about  him  impatiently,  speaking  half  to 
himself.  "  I  must  go.  I  must  saddle  a  horse 
directly." 

"  I  '11  drive  you  to  town  in  the  chaise." 

"  Where  is  he  ?  " 

"Why"-  The  doctor  hesitated.  "He  was 
taken  to  jail,  you  know." 

Matt  made  no  observation  upon  this  reluctantly 
given  piece  of  news. 

"  Will  you  visit  him,  or  your  mother,  first  ?  " 
Dr.  Colton  asked. 

"  I  must  go  to  my  father  first." 

For  in  that  instant  of  revelation,  when  Matt 
understood  how  dire  was  the  strait  in  which  Jacob 
Hager  was  placed,  he  felt  the  tugging  of  the  bond 
of  blood  between  them.  In  his  father's  prosperous 


208  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

days,  he  had  known  repugnance,  anger,  hate  it 
self  for  the  man  whose  name  he  bore.  In  old 
Jacob's  degradation,  Matt  was  after  all  his  son. 

So  Dr.  Colton  drove  to  the  county  buildings, 
and  left  the  young  man  at  the  door  of  the  jail. 
"  I  sincerely  trust  this  may  not  be  as  bad  as  it 
appears,"  he  said,  trying  to  utter  some  cheerful 
speech  at  parting.  "If  there  is  anything  I  can 
do  at  any  time,  of  course  you  will  call  upon  me." 

"Yes,"  Matt  answered  abstractedly,  "  that's  all 
right.  I  mean  to  say  —  I'm  very  much  obliged." 

He  ascended  the  steps  to  the  heavy  door,  feel 
ing  that  it  all,  he  and  the  building  and  his  errand, 
was  part  of  a  hideous  dream.  It  could  not  be 
true.  It  would  be  comic,  if  it  were  not  so  tragic, 
that  Jacob  Hager  was  here,  a  prisoner  behind  the 
bars,  under  the  charge  of  murder. 

That  sense  of  the  unreal  was  upon  him  through 
out  his  admission  and  his  conference  with  the 
sheriff.  The  first  rough  touch  of  awakening  fell 
as  he  was  led  down  the  little  corridor  and  saw,  in 
passing,  that  each  cell  was  crowded,  that  there 
were  familiar  faces  among  those  raised  to  stare  at 
the  visitor.  He  recognized  Casper  Enpolt,  and 
Jury  Post,  and  Conrate  Swart ;  "  God  help  us, 
it 's  true,"  thought  Matt. 

And  henceforth  he  was  wide  awake.  There  was 
no  more  room  for  fancy  after  his  conductor  stopped 
at  a  steel-barred  opening  and  called,  "  Jacob  Ha 
ger  !  See  here.  You  're  wanted." 

For  Matt's  father,  disheveled,  fagged,  but  irasci 
ble  as  ever,  limped  from  among  the  group  below 


SON  AND   FATHER  209 

the  high  window  and  approached  the  grating.  He 
gave  a  grunt  at  the  recognition  of  his  guest.  "  That 
you  ?  "  he  remarked. 

"  Yes,"  said  Matt  in  his  throat. 

He  laid  one  hand  against  the  bars.  He  wished 
to  touch  the  prisoner,  to  show,  in  some  more  effect 
ive  fashion  than  by  the  poor  means  of  speech, 
how  complete  were  his  sympathy  and  devotion. 

"  What  ye  gawpin'  at  ?  "  asked  Jacob  tartly. 
"  Ain't  ye  never  seen  me  before  ?  I  swan,  ye  act 
so.  That 's  a  pretty  way  to  cheer  a  man  up,  jes> 
to  stan'  there,  an'  not  to  say  a  darned  word." 

"  I  can't  think  what  to  say,"  pleaded  Matt.  "  I 
feel  so  much." 

"  Ye  might  talk  about  a  lawyer.  If  ye  hed  a 
grain  o'  sense,  or  ever  hed  hed,  you  'd  know  I 
want  a  lawyer." 

His  complaining  tone,  pitched  in  the  same  key 
in  which  Matt  had  often  heard  him  demand  a 
tardy  meal,  roused  the  young  fellow  effectually 
from  his  sentimental  pose. 

"  That 's  so,"  said  he.  "  Who  do  you  want, 
father  ?  Have  you  thought  ?  " 

"  O'  course  I  've  thought.  Them  fellows,"  nod 
ding  his  head  in  the  direction  of  the  men  whisper 
ing  together  beneath  the  window,  "  they  're  all  for 
'Lisha  B.  Gallup.  To  hear  'em  go  on,  you'd 
s'pose  there  never  was  sech  another  man  made  as 
'Lisha  B.  Gallup." 

"  Well,  father,  he  is  smart." 

It  was  an  incautious  recommendation.  Old 
Jacob's  resolve  to  rule  had  resented  the  others' 


210  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

opinions.  His  son's  assertion  fired  the  contrary 
spirit  to  immediate  action.  "  I  guess  Mossy  Mix 
is  good  enough  for  me,"  he  remarked. 

"  Oh,  father  !  Why,  Mr.  Gallup  is  older ;  and 
he  's  better  read  in  the  law  "  — 

"  How  do  ye  know  he  is  ?  " 

"  I  mean,  he  's  had  more  experience.  And  then 
Mossy  Mix  is  always  laughed  at  here  "  — 

"  I  guess  he  's  good  enough  for  me.  'Cordin'  to 
Adem  Mix,  he  's  the  smartest  lawyer  anywheres 
'round.  I  guess  I  '11  have  Mossy." 

"  Oh,  of  course  his  family  think  everything  of 
him.  But,  father,"  -  —  Matt  uttered  a  despairing 
groan,  —  "  this  is  a  matter  of  life  and  death !  " 

"  I  don't  see  how.     They  can't  do  nothin'  to  me." 

The  grizzled  jaw  was  set.  The  faded  eyes  flashed 
defiance  into  his.  "  I  tell  ye  I  never  did  like  'Lisha 
B.  Gallup.  Him  an'  his  brother  Amos  they  went 
to  school  with  me.  I  never  thought  much  of  'em. 
'Lisha  he  was  always  foot  o'  the  spellin'  class. 
An'  I  'm  goin'  to  have  Mossy  Mix." 

"  There  are  other  men  we  could  get  "  — 

"  You  git  Mossy  Mix." 

Perhaps  he  was  touched  by  his  son's  harassed 
expression.  Perhaps  he  was  grateful  for  Matt's 
forgiveness.  But  as  the  young  man  turned,  dis 
heartened,  away,  his  father  growled  abruptly, 
"  Say !  See  here.  Come  back." 

His  voice  ceased,  and  something  seemed  to  choke 
him.  His  features  worked  painfully. 

"Well?" 

"  You  go  to  Mossy  first  thing." 


SON  AND   FATHER  211 

"  Yes.     And  then  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  Ye  might,"  Jacob's  fingers  clutched  convul 
sively  at  the  bars,  —  "  ye  might  as  well  —  go  to 
see  your  mother." 

Matt  faced  about,  and  confronted  him.  Son  and 
father  looked  into  each  other's  eyes.  "  Do  you 
mean,"  Matt  demanded  hoarsely,  "  that  you  're 
asking  me  to  go  back  home  ?  " 

The  fingers  quivered  in  their  hold  on  the  steel 
framework.  There  was  a  pause  of  tremendous 
effort.  "I  want  ye  should  tell  her  how  I  be," 
said  Jacob  finally.  "I  —  I  —  Don't  ye  see  I  'm 
askin'  ye  ?  " 

He  struck  his  thigh  with  his  clinched  fist,  snap 
ping  out  the  query  in  the  old  contentious  tone. 
Matt  recalled  his  own  threat  of  the  morning  that 
he  left  the  farm.  His  face  whitened.  His  nails 
dug  into  the  palms  of  his  restless  hands.  The 
determined  nature  struggled  against  itself.  "  Fa 
ther,"  he  announced,  "  I  was  going  home  anyway. 
I  shouldn't  have  waited  for  you  to  ask  me.  I 
thank  you,  though." 

"  That 's  all  right,"  and  Jacob  shuffled  away. 

There  was  to  be  one  gleam  of  brightness  across 
this  day  for  Matt.  As  he  went  around  the  farm 
house,  on  his  way  to  the  kitchen  door,  he  met  Phe 
Colton,  hurrying  up  from  the  cut  'cross  lots  over 
the  hill.  They  started  and  smiled  involuntarily  at 
sight  of  each  other.  "  Oh,  Matt,"  cried  Phe,  "  I  'm 
so  glad  to  see  you !  I  came  on  an  errand  to  Gitty." 

"  That  was  very  kind,"  he  answered,  "  and  she  '11 
be  pleased.  How  are  you  all  at  your  house  ?  " 


212  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

He  paused,  at  the  porch  step,  to  put  this  ques 
tion.  As  he  had  parted  from  the  doctor  but  two 
hours  earlier,  it  did  not  seem  one  of  special  mo 
ment.  Yet  Phe  lingered  to  answer  him.  "  We  're 
pretty  well,"  she  said,  curling  her  bonnet  strings. 
"  But  then  —  don't  think  anything  about  us.  I 
must  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am  for  you." 

He  looked  down  at  her.     She  looked  up  at  him. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  whispered. 

"  Phe  Colton,  is  that  you  ?  "  called  Gitty  from 
the  milk  cellar.  "  Who  's  that  you  're  talking  to  ?  " 

"Why,  Matt!" 

"  Matt  ?     Is  he  here  ?     Mother,  here 's  Matt." 

Maria  and  her  daughter  hastened  out  to  greet 
him,  while  Phe  was  vexed  that  she  should  have 
blundered  upon  such  a  scene.  Nor  could  she  un 
derstand  that,  to  characters  so  unused  to  expres 
sion,  the  presence  of  an  outsider  was  a  relief. 

"  I  thought,  at  first,  it  was  Almiran,"  Gitty  re 
marked  directly.  "  Have  you  seen  him  to-day  ?  " 
She  turned  almost  defiantly  upon  Phe,  who  ap 
peared  frightened,  and  shook  her  head.  "  I  don't 
know  what  to  make  of  it,"  Gitty  continued.  "  He  's 
always  been  such  a  good  friend  to  us.  And  he 
ain't  been  near  us  —  since." 

She  was  beyond  pride,  beyond  even  jealousy. 
She  felt  only  that  she  must  penetrate  this  mystery 
of  his  absence.  Phe  went  up  to  her,  and  took  her 
hands.  "  Oh,  my  dear,"  she  began,  then  clasped 
the  girl  about  the  neck,  and  fell  to  crying,  "  that 's 
why  I  came.  Allie  just  told  me.  They  have  ar 
rested  Almiran,  too." 


SON  AND  FATHER  213 

But  the  day's  disasters  had  not  yet  been  counted. 
So  Phoebe  found  when  she  returned  home  that 
night.  She  ran  back  by  the  same  shorter  path 
through  the  fields,  and  so  down  along  the  blueberry 
ridge  to  the  barn  of  her  father's  farm. 

Here,  to  her  surprise,  she  found  Jemima  Lane 
and  Allie  driving  home  the  cows.  "  Why,  how  is 
this  ?  "  she  asked,  standing  at  the  bars.  "  Where 
is  Henry  Fisher  ?  " 

Jemima  strode  forward  and  seized  a  milk  pail. 
Phe  noticed  that  her  eyes  were  red  and  swollen. 
"  Henery  ain't  here,"  was  her  curt  rejoinder. 

"  That 's  very  evident.  But  what 's  the  matter  ? 
I  never  saw  you  out  here,  Jemima." 

"  If  ye  live  long  enough,  you  '11  see  more  'n  that 
to  surprise  ye.  So,  Boss !  So,  Boss !  I  got  'o  do 
somethin'  to  work  off  my  feelin's.  Allie,  don't 
ye  try  to  milk.  Ye  can't." 

"  What  is  wrong  with  your  feelings,  Jemima? " 
Phe  inquired.  "  I  don't  understand." 

Jemima  regarded  her  steadily  around  the  side  of 
the  cow  she  was  milking.  "  It 's  plain  ye  don't," 
said  she,  struggling  to  keep  down  a  sob  with  the  snap 
in  her  voice.  "  But  nobuddy  needs  a  lantern  to  go 
out  an'  seek  for  trouble.  What  do  ye  suppose  "  — 

"  Why,  Phe  has  n't  heard  about  it,"  Allie  inter 
rupted.  "  About  an  hour  ago  " 

"  You  hush,  Allie  Colton.  Let  me  tell  her. 
What  do  ye  suppose  that  poor  fool 's  done  now  ?  " 

"  What  poor  fool  ?  " 

"  Henery  Fisher.  He  's  went  and  been  arrested 
for  an  Injun." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

ONE    SHALL    BE   TAKEN 

It  is  not  what  you  lose,  but  what  you  have  daily  to  bear  that  is 
hard.  —  W.  M.  THACKERAY. 

THOSE  were  stirring  days  for  Allie  Colton.  He 
was  too  young  to  feel  the  common  terror,  save  as 
that  vague  awe  and  that  sense  of  adventure  which 
are  so  dear  to  a  child.  He  liked  to  bustle  into  the 
house  with  bits  of  information  he  had  gathered 
here  and  there.  He  liked  to  evoke  his  mother's 
and  his  sister's  cry  of  dismay,  or  Jemima  Lane's 
shrill  scolding.  Dr.  Colton  was  busy  in  the  "  sickly 
season "  which  late  summer  was  apt  to  bring 
throughout  the  country.  He  had  scant  time  to 
give  his  family,  who  relied  on  the  officious  little  boy 
and  his  news  for  the  larger  part  of  their  knowledge 
concerning  what  went  on  about  them. 

Anti-rent  meetings  throughout  the  various  pa 
tents  were  protesting  against  responsibility  for  the 
crime  of  Hager's  sale.  The  governor  had  offered  a 
reward  for  the  apprehension  of  Davit  Finck  and  of 
that  lecturer  who  incited  the  men  to  violence  and 
who  undoubtedly  had  been  present  at  the  tragedy. 
Armed  men  scoured  the  country,  two  companies 
of  volunteers  protecting  the  officers  in  making  their 
arrests. 


ONE  SHALL  BE  TAKEN.  215 

"  Jail 's  chuck  full,"  Allie  announced  breath 
lessly.  "  They  've  got  to  put  up  a  new  building. 
Crazy  Dan  and  a  lot  of  men  are  at  work  on  it  now. 
You  just  ought  to  see  'em  hurry." 

Jemima  fell  to  berating  him  for  tracking  up  her 
kitchen  floor. 

"  And  they  've  put  Omar  Mix  in  jail,"  he  con 
tinued.  "  Ain't  that  dreadful  ?  A  boy  not  much 
bigger  'n  me." 

"  Pooh !  "  cried  Jemima.  "  He  's  twice  as  big  as 
you.  I  wisht  you'd  march  right  out  o'  here,  Allie 
Colton.  You  talk  so  fast  ye  make  a  body's  head 
ache." 

She  watched  for  the  doctor  that  night,  and,  while 
he  was  stabling  his  horse,  ran  down  to  the  barn, 
her  apron  flung  over  her  head. 

"  Doctor,"  she  greeted  him,  "  I  've  been  think 
ing  :  Allie  says  they  're  put  to  it  for  room  over 
there  at  the  jail." 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  unharnessing  Sam,  "  I  be 
lieve  they  are." 

"  Why  can't  Henery  Fisher  be  let  out  on  bail  ?  " 

The  doctor  looked  around  at  her  quickly.  "  I 
doubt  whether  that  is  possible.  Even  if  it  were, 
I  have  n't  the  money  myself." 

"  Shucks,"  said  Jemima,  "  I  did  n't  mean  you  ! 
It  ain't  more  'n  dishonesty,  I  call  it,  to  do  your 
givin'  out  o'  another  man's  pocket." 

"  Then  what  did  you  mean,  Jemima  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  've  got  a  little  saved  up.  I  reckon  it 
would  be  enough." 

The  doctor  hesitated.     "  I  hate  to  hint  such  a 


216  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

thing,  but  don't  you  see  you  would  be  certain  to 
lose  it  ?  Henry  Fisher  is  just  the  sort  of  fellow 
to  run  away." 

Jemima  stared  at  him  in  wonder.  "  Why,  land 
sakes,"  she  exclaimed,  "  that  's  what  I  mean  ! 
I  'd  expect  him  to  jump  his  bail.  And  goodness 
knows  't  would  be  wuth  it,  to  git  the  poor  fool  out 
o'  harm's  way." 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  the  doctor  soothingly,  "  I  've 
no  idea  Henry  will  be  severely  punished.  I  will 
ask,  but  I  am  afraid  he  must  stay  where  he  is. 
However,  the  trials  begin  next  week  and  he  is  likely 
to  get  off  easily.  Public  feeling  will  be  satisfied 
with  revenge  before  it  reaches  him.  The  leaders, 
Davit  Finck  and  Zielle  and  old  Hager  —  they  are 
the  ones  to  suffer." 

He  had  given  Demosthenes  a  lift  in  his  chaise 
that  morning,  and  the  young  lawyer's  despondency 
oppressed  the  doctor.  Omar's  arrest  had  shaken 
his  brother's  nerve,  but  as  Dr.  Colton  reflected, 
such  egotism  should  balance  that,  and  he  was  not 
prepared  for  the  hints  Demosthenes  dropped  as  to 
his  client's  case. 

It  was  a  most  unfortunate  conjunction  —  the 
obtuse  obstinacy  of  old  Jacob  forced  to  mate  with 
the  conceit  of  Mossy  Mix.  Nothing  but  a  willful 
holding  to  his  word  kept  Jacob  Hager  from  repu 
diating  the  services  so  offered.  His  efforts  at  re 
pression,  his  increasing  insight  into  the  power  of 
the  law  mingled  with  his  contempt  for  Demos 
thenes  and  his  undying  rage  at  his  confinement, 
and  drove  him  to  a  frenzy. 


ONE  SHALL  BE  TAKEN  217 

To  Matt's  surprise  his  father  recalled  him  one 
day  as  he  was  taking  his  departure.  "  Say,"  he 
whispered,  his  face  against  the  bars,  "  Doc  Colton 
was  here  to-day." 

"  Was  he  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  to  see  that  hired  man  o'  hisn.  Say  !  He 
seems  like  a  sensible  kind  o'  man  !  " 

"  I  think  he  is." 

"  Say !  Why  don't  ye  tell  him  what  Mossy  Mix 
wants?  Hey?  See  what  he  says." 

"  Very  well,"  Matt  agreed.     "  I  will." 

He  went  out  of  his  way  to  the  doctor's  house 
on  the  road  home  to  the  Mayham  place,  and  was 
rewarded  by  finding  not  only  her  father,  but  Phe 
seated  beside  him  on  the  front  steps.  Nor  had  the 
older  man  forgotten  the  revelation  which  amused 
him  at  the  Anti-rent  lecture.  He  made  room  for 
their  guest  and,  when  Phrebe  rose  to  go  as  Matt 
explained  his  errand,  the  doctor  placed  a  detaining 
arm  about  her.  "  No,  no,  stay,  child,"  said  he. 
"  I  'm  sure  Matt  won't  mind." 

"  I  '11  be  glad  to  have  her,"  was  the  prompt 
reply. 

Dr.  Colton  smiled  sadly.  He  felt  sorry  for  Matt. 
His  first  impulse  was  to  comfort  him.  But  no 
proud  parent  could  desire  that  connection  for  his 
only  daughter.  The  smile  ended  in  a  sigh. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  "  he  suggested,  to  fill  a  slight 
pause.  "  You  want  my  opinion,  Mathice  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  You  see  it 's  like  this."  Matt  leaned 
forward  on  the  lower  step  to  meet  the  doctor's  eyes. 
His  face  was  white,  but  he  held  his  head  as  haughtily 


218  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

as  ever.  "  My  father  is  indicted  for  murder.  De 
mosthenes  is  afraid  he  may  not  be  able  to  clear 
him,  though  father  swears  he  never  fired  his  gun. 
But  you  know  how  he  talks.  He  did  threaten 
everything  if  he  or  his  property  was  touched. 
Mossy  is  scared.  I  can  see  that.  And  he  's  de 
termined  father  shall  plead  guilty  of  manslaughter 
in  the  first  degree." 

There  was  an  instant  of  strained  silence.  Phe 
wondered  if  Matt  knew,  since  it  had  grown  so  dark, 
that  her  eyes  were  wet  with  tears  as  she  looked  at 
him.  I  think  he  knew. 

"  It 's  a  desperate  fix,"  said  the  doctor  finally. 
"  I  see." 

"  Yes,  it 's  desperate,"  Matt  repeated. 

"  There 's  not  much  evidence,  I  should  judge, 
against  any  of  the  prisoners :  I  mean,  that  one  of 
them  fired  the  fatal  shot." 

"  No,  sir.  So  Demosthenes  says.  The  evidence 
must  be  circumstantial,  and  it 's  flimsy.  But  he 
says,  too,  that  the  one  thing  no  case,  no  matter  how 
strong,  can  stand,  is  general  sentiment.  And  that 's 
dead  against  the  Indians  —  at  present." 

The  doctor  rubbed  his  spectacles  with  his  ban 
danna  handkerchief.  "  That 's  so,  Matt,"  he  re 
plied.  "  Now  —  you  want  my  honest  opinion,  of 
course  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  sir.     I  'm  not  a  baby." 

"  Well,  then,  I  do  think  there  will  have  to  be 
some  scapegoats  in  this  affair.  It  is  hard  to  trace 
the  crime  home  to  any  one  of  those  men.  Unfortu 
nately  your  father  was  vehement  and  conspicuous. 


ONE  SHALL  BE  TAKEN  219 

And  his  rifle  was  at  hand  where  in  the  confusion  he 
might  have  shot,  although  we  know  he  did  not  be 
cause  he  says  so.  I  'm  afraid  Demosthenes  is  right. 
The  only  chance  lies  in  a  plea  to  a  lesser  offense." 

Matt's  brown  fingers  worked  as  they  clasped 
about  his  knee.  "  Yes,  sir,"  said  he  quietly. 

"  It 's  best  to  face  the  worst,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.     Thank  you.     I  '11  tell  father." 

Phe  felt  a  desperate  need  to  console  him,  he 
seemed  so  desolate,  so  alone.  "  There  's  just  one 
thing  to  be  thankful  for,"  she  interposed,  —  "  that 
you  are  free  of  all  this  —  of  suspicion  even. 
Every  one  knows  you  were  not  there." 

He  dropped  his  head  on  his  hands.  "  Thankful 
for  that !  "  he  repeated.  "  If  you  could  guess  the 
sneak  I  feel,  when  I  see  those  poor  fellows  penned 
up  in  jail,  and  remember  how  completely  I  was  one 
with  them  a  little  while  ago  !  It  was  like  cowardice, 
my  not  taking  part  in  the  sale  —  that  Almiran 
Sweet  should  be  there,  and  I  safe  miles  away.  I 
hate  myself  because  I  stand  so  far  outside  it  all." 

"  That  is  morbid,  my  boy,"  was  the  doctor's  gen 
tle  comment. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  so.  These  are  no  times  for 
philosophy."  He  sat  in  silence,  a  moment  longer, 
and  then  he  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  Must  you  go  ?  "  Phe  murmured  timidly. 

Her  father's  deep  voice  began  a  like  sentence  of 
hospitable  intention,  yet  it  was  the  girl  Matt  an 
swered.  He  glanced  up  at  her,  standing  above  him 
on  the  step.  She  wore  a  white  gown  sprinkled  with 
little  flowers.  It  was  the  same  dress  which  had 


220  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

brushed  against  his  knee  that  happy  evening  in 
church.  With  the  moonlight  around  her  she 
seemed  robed  as  a  lovely  saint.  Her  pure,  sweet 
face  bent  toward  him  and  he  threw  his  head  back 
to  look  at  her. 

"  Yes,  I  must  go,"  he  answered.  "  I  don't  be 
long  to  myself  any  more.  Between  cousin  Mark, 
and  my  mother  and  Gitty,  and  —  and  father,  I  am 
not  a  free  man  now." 

"  No  one  of  us  is  free,  Mathice,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  The  uttermost  we  can  hope  for  is  to  do  good,  and 
not  harm,  to  those  with  whom  we  are  bound  to 
gether.  And  that,  you  know,  you  do." 

"  How  is  Gitty  ?  "  Phe  interpolated  nervously. 

He  shook  his  head.  "  I  can't  tell.  I  wish  you 
would  go  to  see  her  and  find  out  what  is  wrong. 
Maybe  it 's  because  I  don't  understand  girls,  but 
Gitty  seems  to  me  to  take  all  this  worse  even  than 
my  mother." 

"  I  '11  run  over  there  to-morrow,"  Phe  assured 
him.  But  she  was  not  to  keep  her  word. 

When  Matt  rode  up  to  the  jail  on  the  following 
morning  carpenters  were  busily  raising  the  new 
building.  Crazy  Dan  tapped  out  a  blithe  tune  with 
his  hammer,  apparently  absorbed  in  his  task.  Yet 
the  sight  of  the  young  fellow  brought  up  perhaps 
the  last  time  they  had  met,  in  Squire  Mayham's 
garden.  He  hesitated,  feeling  for  the  thread  of  as 
sociation  eluding  his  mental  grasp.  Finally,  his 
eyes  on  the  newcomer  tying  his  horse  to  the  hitch- 
ing-post,  he  slowly  descended  the  ladder. 

"  Two  men  shall  be  in  the  field ;  the  one  shall 


ONE   SHALL  BE  TAKEN  221 

be  taken,  and  the  other  left.  Watch  ye  therefore ; 
for  ye  know  not  when  the  master  of  the  house  com- 
eth,  at  even,  or  at  midnight,  or  at  the  cockcrowing, 
or  in  the  morning  ;  lest  coming  suddenly,  he  find 
you  sleeping.  And  what  I  say  unto  you,  I  say 
unto  all,  Watch." 

He  advanced  until  he  stood  directly  in  Matt's 
path. 

"  Yes,  yes,  Dan,"  he  cried  impatiently.  "  That 's 
so.  Let  me  pass,  will  you  ?  I  'm  in  a  hurry." 

"  And  they  all  with  one  consent  began  to  make 
excuse.  He  that  hath  ears  to  hear,  let  him  hear." 

"  Yes,  I  understand.  Let  me  pass,  that 's  a  good 
fellow." 

Adem  Mix  had  come  up  behind  them.  His 
worn  features  lighted  in  a  fleeting  show  of  inter 
est  other  than  in  the  affairs  of  his  youngest  son. 
"Don't  you  see,"  he  observed,  "what  the  poor 
cuss  is  trying  to  tell  you  ?  " 

"No.     What?" 

"  Do  you  mean  you  hain't  heard  the  news  ?  " 

Matt  made  an  indifferent  gesture  of  dissent. 

"  Sho  !  I  did  n't  know  that.  I  supposed  every 
body  had  heard.  Why,  Dr.  Colton  died  last 
night." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

GITTY  SPEAKS  HER  MIND 

"  Is  there  no  death,  then,  for  the  spoken  word  ?  " 

MATT  stared,  as  if  stupefied.  "  Why,  that  can't 
be,"  he  gasped.  "  I  saw  him,  myself,  last  night." 

"  Maybe  you  did.  But  he  was  found  dead  in 
his  bed  this  morning." 

And  already,  in  that  second  of  time,  the  fact  had 
become  familiar,  taking  its  place  among  the  sorrows 
which  crowded  forward  insistent  to  be  faced.  Matt 
mourned  the  wise  friend  whom  he  had  come  to 
value  during  the  Squire's  illness.  His  heart  ached 
for  Phe.  Yet  the  urgent  thing  was  to  hurry  away 
with  this  intelligence  to  his  father,  and  repeat  ad 
vice  which  had  been  among  the  last  words  of  their 
counselor.  He  found  Jacob,  too,  so  wrapped  in 
the  possibilities  of  his  own  affairs  as  to  be  beyond 
caring  greatly  for  what  went  on  outside  them.  He 
cried,  "  I  want  to  know  !  "  at  Matt's  announcement. 
He  was  most  affected,  however,  by  what  the  doctor 
had  said,  listening  eagerly  and  with  an  outburst  of 
disappointment  at  its  purport. 

"  I  thought  he  'd  tell  me  to  hold  on,"  he  con 
fessed. 

For  it  seemed  impossible  to  make  Jacob  Hager 


GITTY   SPEAKS   HER  MIND  223 

see  his  danger.  He  had  so  far  refused  to  receive 
visits  from  his  wife  or  daughter.  That  they  should 
be  witnesses  of  his  bondage,  his  humiliation,  was 
too  bitter  to  his  pride,  and  he  confidently  believed, 
as  he  asserted,  "  'T  ain't  any  use.  I  '11  be  out  an' 
home  ag'in  'fore  long." 

Yet,  although  he  despised  the  fears  of  Demosthe 
nes  and  Mathice,  he  must  listen  to  those  set  forth 
by  his  fellow  prisoners.  He  noticed  that  their 
lawyers  were  worried.  He  heard  doubts  expressed 
as  to  whether  Storm  Zielle's  life  could  be  saved. 
Gradually  an  undefined  dread  had  crept  through 
the  thick  vanity  of  ignorance.  Matt  perceived  the 
mental  struggle,  and  pushed  it  on.  "  Casper  and 
Courate  Swart,"  said  he,  "  and  Jury  Post  are  all 
going  to  plead  guilty  to  manslaughter.  Casper 
told  me  so.  They  think  it 's  their  only  chance." 

"  But  I  ain't  guilty,"  old  Jacob  persisted. 

It  was  evident  this  was  the  point  of  contention, 
and  that  he  failed  to  comprehend  what  the  plea  in 
volved.  Desperate  as  they  were,  Demosthenes  and 
Matt  agreed  to  keep  him  in  ignorance.  The  awak 
ening  would  be  frightful,  and  yet  it  was  better  than 
if  it  came  in  time  to  complicate  their  only  hopes  of 
rescue.  "  I  would  n't  give  that  for  his  life,"  De 
mosthenes  had  declared,  with  a  snap  of  the  fingers, 
"  if  he  holds  out  like  Zielle  and  Nicelas  Mann. 
They  have  n't  the  ghost  of  a  show." 

"Well,"  old  Jacob  slowly  decided,  eyeing  his 
son,  "  if  the  rest  is  goin'  to,  I  s'pose  I  might  as 
well.  They  ain't  any  use  o'  my  holdin'  out  alone, 
an'  bearin'  all  the  blame." 


'224  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

"  No,"  Matt  assured  him  eagerly.  "  You  must 
do  the  best  you  can  for  yourself.  Shall  I  tell  De 
mosthenes  you  want  to  see  him  ?  " 

"  Ye  might,"  was  the  grudging  concession. 

Possibly  Matt  was  enabled  to  bear  the  many 
cares  of  this  time  from  their  very  number,  which 
forced  him  to  go  from  one  to  another,  and  prevented 
his  dwelling  upon  any  single  worry.  He  went  from 
the  Squire's  sick  bed  to  the  jail,  from  his  father  to 
the  lawyer,  and  then  to  report  to  Maria  and  Gitty. 
Here  he  learned,  concerning  Dr.  Colton's  death, 
some  further  details,  such  as  women  contrive  to 
gather  even  from  isolation.  "  The  funeral 's  to  be 
at  the  Episcopal  church,"  his  sister  told  him,  "  on 
Thursday  at  four  o'clock.  You  going? " 

"  Why,  yes,"  he  said  instantly,  "  we  must  go. 
I  don't  quite  see  how  I  'm  to  take  the  time,  but  I 
shall." 

Gitty  fell  to  crying.  "  If  your  mind  is  set  on  it," 
she  whimpered,  "  I  suppose  it 's  got  to  be.  Any 
body  'd  think,  though,  I  had  enough  to  stand,  with 
out  getting  harrowed  up  by  a  funeral." 

Her  mother,  staring  listlessly  from  the  window, 
moved  her  head  slightly  at  that.  "  Anybody  'd 
think,"  she  retorted,  "  you  might  have  more  feeling 
for  a  girl  that 's  lost  her  father." 

This  reproach  served  to  increase  Gitty's  tears, 
and  distracted  Matt  by  a  scene  of  hysteria.  Nev 
ertheless  his  sister  promised  to  accompany  him  to 
the  church  on  Thursday. 

It  was  the  one  way  he  knew  of  showing  his  sym 
pathy.  To  write  a  note,  or  to  send  flowers  to  the 


225 

mourning  family,  lay  beyond  his  experience.  At 
tendance  at  a  funeral  was  common  neighborliness, 
and  the  little  church  was-  crowded  that  summer 
afternoon.  With  all  the  distractions  of  the  past 
three  weeks,  a  death  so  sudden,  and  of  so  popular 
a  man,  stirred  the  entire  community.  There  was, 
likewise,  some  slight  curiosity.  Many  of  those 
present  were  unaccustomed  to  a  church  funeral,  or 
to  the  Episcopal  service.  They  had  hearkened  to 
strange  stories  of  what  happened  within  those  walls, 
and  here  was  an  opportunity  to  verify  them. 

The  congregation  to  which  Matt  belonged  was 
not  one  requiring  a  high  order  of  intelligence  nor 
culture  in  its  head.  The  young  man  had  often 
heard  from  a  coffin-side  confidential  and  collo 
quial  prayers,  with  private  matters  dragged  ruth 
lessly  into  an  interminable  sermon.  He  possessed 
no  knowledge  of  such  majesty,  such  reverent 
beauty,  as  opened  out  before  him  to-day. 

He  was  startled  by  Mr.  Wakefield's  appearance, 
his  slow  walk  to  the  door.  He  did  not  guess  what 
it  signified.  He  caught  the  roll  of  wheels  outside, 
and  the  heavy  tread  of  feet.  There  followed  a 
little  silence,  and  then  —  those  words  that  have 
thrilled  the  heart  throughout  centuries  of  woe 
pierced  the  breathless  hush :  — 

"  I  am  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life,  saith  the 
Lord." 

Gitty  noticed  that  those  about  her  rose.  She 
sprang  to  her  feet,  and  her  brother  followed.  The 
white-robed  figure  passed  them,  leading  the  bear 
ers  with  the  coffin. 


226  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

Matt's  gaze  fell  for  an  instant  pityingly  upon 
the  widow  and  Allie,  who  held  her  hand.  But  he 
saw  Phe,  who  followed  her  mother,  and  after  that 
he  saw  no  one  else.  The  girl's  delicate  loveliness 
was  enhanced  by  her  black  frock.  Her  sad  face, 
set  in  a  little  white  bonnet  with  its  folds  of  crepe, 
brought  tears  to  his  eyes  and  a  sob  to  his  throat. 
It  was  unbearable  that  she  should  suffer  and  he  do 
nothing. 

The  sublime  sentences  rang  henceforth  upon 
deaf  ears  for  Matt  Hager.  He  looked  straight  at 
Phoebe  throughout  psalter  and  lesson  and  hymn. 
He  prayed  for  her  in  the  collects,  and  he  followed 
in  the  line  of  wagons  to  the  grave,  so  absorbed  in 
thought  of  her  that  Gitty's  well-intentioned  com 
ments  struck  him  as  an  offense. 

After  the  committal  service,  Mr.  Wakefield  said 
a  few  words  to  the  small  group  of  mourners,  thus 
setting  the  example  for  others.  Matt  observed 
this,  and,  feeling  at  his  most  awkward  worst,  whis 
pered  to  his  sister, — 

"  Go  and  speak  to  her  while  I  drive  up  the  horse." 

"  I  don't  want  to,"  Gitty  objected  shrinkingly. 

"  You  go  on,"  said  Matt. 

"  Oh,  well !  "  She  plucked  at  her  courage  with 
both  hands  and  advanced.  He  watched  till  he  saw 
Phe  turn  toward  her  before  he  went  over  to  the 
tree  where  Billy  was  tied. 

"  What  did  she  say  ?  "  he  inquired,  after  Gitty 
had  taken  her  seat  beside  him  in  the  buggy. 

"  Nothing  much." 

"What  did  she  say?" 


GITTY   SPEAKS   HER  MIND  227 

"  She  just  cried  a  little  —  and  so  did  I.  Then 
she  kissed  me.  Don't  she  look  sweet  in  black  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  Matt  answered. 

That  hour  of  dignified  sorrow,  of  a  grief  without 
tinge  of  shame,  and  which  could  receive  such 
heavenly  comfort,  was  set  against  the  long  weeks 
that  followed,  ever  after  in  his  thoughts. 

The  trial  of  the  prisoners  began  a  fortnight 
after  the  crime,  and  continued  until  October. 
What  hope  could  be  entertained  for  its  outcome 
must  be  based  upon  the  fact  that  the  judge  was 
a  resident  of  the  county  and  acquainted  with 
many  of  the  prisoners.  His  uncle,  moreover,  was 
among  their  counsel.  The  first  charge  manifested 
his  strict  impartiality,  and  public  sentiment  was 
shown  in  the  jury's  verdict  against  the  leaders. 
Davit  Finck  had  fled  the  country.  Storm  Zielle 
was  proved  to  have  been  a  subordinate  chief  who 
was  present  armed  and  disguised.  Without  a  par 
ticle  of  evidence  that  he  fired  a  shot  he  was  found 
guilty  of  murder.  Nicelas  Mann,  who  had  been 
overheard  to  ask  for  a  ramrod  to  reload  his  gun, 
was  convicted  with  him.  They  were  sentenced  to 
be  hanged  upon  the  twenty-ninth  of  November. 

Besides  their  families  and  intimate  friends,  the 
court-room  was  packed  during  this  trial  by  others 
desirous  to  learn  from  its  character  what  might  be 
expected  for  the  remaining  eighty-two  prisoners 
awaiting  their  turn.  Matt  peremptorily  forbade 
his  sister's  presence,  and  was  surprised  even  in  his 
own  discouragement  to  see  the  agitation  with  which 
she  listened  to  his  news  each  night. 


228  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

"  Why,  you  act  worse  than  mother,"  he  rebuked 
her. 

Neither  could  he  understand  her  indifference  to 
his  strictures  and  her  persistent  appeal  that  he 
take  her  with  him  "  just  once  "  to  the  jail.  Maria 
Hager  had  acquiesced  in  her  husband's  decision. 
It  seemed  an  uncalled-for  degradation  that  he 
should  be  seen  in  his  abasement  by  the  women  over 
whom  he  had  harshly  ruled.  But  Gitty  coaxed  — 
and  coaxed  in  vain  —  until  the  night  Matt  told  her 
of  the  first  verdict.  Thereupon  she  sprang  from 
her  seat.  "Now  you  must  take  me,"  she  said. 
"  If  you  don't,  I  swear  I  '11  go  alone.  I  will  see 
Almiran." 

"  Oh,  so  it 's  Almiran  ?  "  Mathice  stupidly  in 
quired.  "  I  thought  all  the  time  it  was  father." 

"I  don't  care  what  you  thought,"  she  answered. 
And  he  saw  that  this  was  true. 

"  All  right,"  said  he  more  gently.  "  You  shall 
go  with  me  to-morrow." 

The  memory  of  his  love  for  Phe  softened  the 
criticism  with  which  merely  as  a  brother  he  would 
have  regarded  her  wish.  Moreover,  these  two 
young  people  each  recognized  the  occasions  when 
dictum  from  either  must  be  accepted.  Matt  had 
agreed  at  last,  and  he  took  Gitty  under  his  pro 
tection. 

There  were  other  women  in  the  line  of  visitors. 
No  one  noticed  the  girl,  all  being  too  sadly  pre 
occupied  with  their  own  matters.  Mrs.  Sweet 
was  on  the  point  of  leaving  her  son  as  they 
were  admitted  to  the  room  in  the  new  building 


GITTY   SPEAKS  HER  MIND  229 

where  many  of  the  last  to  be  arrested  were  con 
fined. 

"  It 's  good  of  you  to  come  to  see  my  boy,"  she 
sobbed  in  her  farewell. 

Almiran  looked  pale  and  careworn  after  the  in 
terview.  He  nodded  to  them  almost  abstractedly, 
Gitty  felt,  and  asked  at  once  of  Matt,  "  What  do 
you  think  about  the  verdict  ?  " 

Evidently  he  had  lost  all  remembrance  of  their 
last  conversation.  It  weighed  heavily  upon  Ma- 
thice.  "  Oh,  I  guess  you  're  all  right,"  he  an 
swered.  "  I  know  this :  if  I  could  stand  in  your 
shoes  I  'd  give  ten  years  of  my  life." 

Almiran's  jaw  dropped.    "  Why  on  earth  "  — 

"  When  I  look  back,"  Matt  began  with  intense 
bitterness,  "to  the  time  you  told  me  you  were 
going  to  quit  the  Indians,  I  feel  as  if  I  ought  to 
be  hung.  That  you,  after  all,  should  be  locked  up, 
and  me  as  free  as  air !  " 

Sometimes  a  simple  nature  goes  straightest  to 
the  point.  Almiran  gazed  compassionately  upon 
the  working  features,  the  clinched  hands  of  his  old 
friend.  "  Oh,  come,  now,"  said  he  in  reassurance, 
"  what  good  would  it  do  me  if  you  were  locked  up 
too  ?  And  I  'd  be  here  just  the  same  whether  you 
was  or  not." 

At  this  Gitty  pushed  her  brother  aside.  "  That 's 
the  very  thing!"  she  cried  passionately.  "Almi 
ran,  I  want  to  talk  to  you.  I  want  to  ask  you 
something.  Can  you  ever  forgive  me  for  getting 
you  into  this  trouble?" 

He   regarded   her   in  increasing  bewilderment. 


230  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"  Now  whatever  do  you  mean  ? "  he  demanded. 
"  You  hain't  a  thing-  to  do  with  it,  Gitty  Hager." 

"  I  have  n't  ?  You  don't  intend  to  say  —  why, 
Almiran,  it 's  killing  me !  How  can  you  forget  it 
was  me  that  begged  and  implored  you  to  go  to  the 
sale  ?  And  you  held  back." 

"  True  as  you  live,"  he  protested  with  a  sickly 
smile,  "  I  had  forgot.  You  see,  Gitty,  it  was  all 
the  same.  I  should  'a'  went  anyway." 

"  You  just  tell  me  that  to  make  me  feel  better." 

"  No,  I  don't,  honestly.  I  'd  'a'  been  there  when 
the  time  come  —  because  it  was  your  father." 

Their  eyes  met.  Matt  turned  away.  Almiran's 
fellow  prisoners  were  paying  no  attention  to  the 
low-voiced  conference.  All  this  was  so  soon  an 
old  story  to  them. 

Gitty's  lips  trembled.  They  could  not  form  a 
syllable,  and  yet  they  were  eloquent.  Almiran 
suddenly  beheld  himself  as  a  hero.  In  his  sordid 
and  patent  peril  no  consolation  could  have  been  so 
strong. 

"I  —  I  can't  say  anything,"  the  girl  stammered 
at  length.  "  Good-by.  You  understand." 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  softly,  "  I  know.  Good-by, 
Gitty.  Remember  what  I  told  you.  I  'd  have 
went  anyhow  to  the  sale." 

She  pulled  Matt's  sleeve  to  lead  him  away. 
Then  she  gave  Almiran  one  last  glance.  "  I  guess 
I  'm  not  likely  to  forget,"  she  said. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
OLD  JACOB'S  PLEA 

"  O  worst  imprisonment  —  the  dungeon  of  themselves  !  " 

SOON  after  Gitty  Hager's  visit  to  Almiran,  Je 
mima  concluded  to  go  to  see  Henry  Fisher.  "  The 
poor  critter '11  think  he  's  forsaken,"  she  told  her 
self  in  excuse,  understanding  how  he  must  have 
relied  upon  the  sight  of  Dr.  Colton  each  day  for 
encouragement  and  advice.  The  shock  of  the 
sudden  death,  the  loss  of  that  decided  character 
upon  which  to  lean,  would,  she  knew,  fall  heavily 
upon  Henry.  To  console  him  was  a  duty  so  ap 
parent  as  to  make  Mrs.  Colton  and  Phe  wonder 
somewhat  why  Jemima  rendered  such  elaborate 
apologies  for  the  expedition.  She  did  not  even 
mentally  confess  that  for  her  own  part  she  wished 
a  talk  with  Henry,  that  she  missed  the  daily  com 
panionship,  the  echo  to  her  thoughts,  the  admira 
tion  he  gave,  and  the  condescending  protection  she 
had  extended. 

Still,  no  sooner  was  she  led  to  the  cell  where  he 
was  confined  than  she  broke  in  upon  his  greeting 
with  "  Well,  I  am  glad  to  find  ye  alone.  I  did  n't 
expect  that.  Now  we  can  talk  reel  comf 'table  an' 
nice." 


232  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"  Yes,"  said  Henry.  "  We  've  been  all  moved 
around  sence  the  new  buildin'  was  built.  Ol' 
Jacob  Hager  an'  me  is  the  only  ones  in  here.  An' 
his  trial 's  goin'  on." 

"  Well,  however,"  Jemima  answered,  "  I  'm 
free  to  say  it 's  a  blessing.  Ye  '11  want  to  hear  all 
about  the  poor  doctor." 

"  Wan't  it  turrible  ?  "  Henry  exclaimed  plain 
tively.  "  I  declare  for  it,  Jemimy,  I  boo-hooed  jest 
like  an  infant.  I  did  so." 

"  An'  small  wonder.  If  ever  there  was  a  blessed 
man  gone  straight  to  glory  "  — 

"  Jemimy,"  Henry  interposed.  "  How  be  they 
goin'  to  git  along  ?  " 

"  Well,  there,  Henery  Fisher,"  she  replied  in 
unaffected  admiration,  "  sometimes  you  do  act  reel 
sensible.  They  ain't  another  soul  made  that  re 
mark  to  me." 

"  I  s'pose  they  ain't  nobuddy  but  you  an'  me 
knows  jest  how  they  're  sitooated,  mebbe." 

"  That 's  it.  An'  that 's  why  it  did  seem  's  if 
I  'd  got  'o  git  to  he  v  a  talk  with  you,  or  else  I  should 
give  up.  You  an'  me  are  the  only  ones  that  under- 
stan's.  Why,  Henery,  they  're  in  straits :  that 's 
what  they  are." 

Henry  blinked  his  big  white  eyes.  "  Ain't  they 
anything  they  can  do  ?  " 

"  Sech  as  what,  pray  ?  Mis'  Colton  's  the  smart 
est  woman  in  Farley,  be  the  other  who  she  may. 
She  can  turn  her  hand  to  anything.  But  how  much 
is  they  here  to  turn  her  hand  on  ?  That 's  what 
I'd  admire  to  know." 


OLD  JACOB'S  PLEA  233 

**  That 's  so,"  acquiesced  Henry  as  usual. 

"  An'  Phe  's  capable.  But  what 's  it  worth  ? 
She  can  play  the  instrument "  (Jemima  referred 
to  a  melodeon),  "  an'  cook  an'  sew  reel  well. 
But  who  is  they  in  Farley  to  cook  an'  sew  for? 
You  tell  me  that." 

"  I  guess  you  're  right,"  Henry  said,  shaking  his 
head.  Then,  from  the  depth  of  his  sympathy,  he 
ventured  an  original  remark,  always  dangerous  for 
him.  "  They  're  proud,  too,"  he  observed.  "They 
would  n't  like  to  work." 

Jemima  surveyed  him  in  a  disdain  all  too  fa 
miliar.  "  Much  you  know  about  it.  They  've  got 
pride,  o'  course.  We  've  all  got  it,  one  kind  or  an 
other.  Some  folks's  lies  in  braggin'  what  they 
can  do,  an'  some  folks's  in  what  they  can't.  Some 
are  proud  o'  seemin'  better  off'n  what  they  be, 
an'  some  in  seemin'  wuss.  They 's  women  in  this 
town  act  as  if  nobuddy  'd  suspect  they  was  good 
housekeepers  without  they  stood  out  in  the  front 
yard  in  a  caliker  apern  with  their  sleeves  rolled  up. 
I  always  feel  as  if  they  're  cryin'  to  all  an'  sundry, 
'  Jes'  look  a'  me,  how  hard  I  work.'  That 's  their 
kind  o'  pride.  Mis'  Colton's  is  the  sort  that  keeps 
herself  to  herself.  It  don't  poke  what  she  says, 
nor  does,  nor  thinks  in  other  folks's  faces.  Ye 
can  call  that  pride,  if  you  're  so  disposed.  Seems 
to  me  it 's  dignity." 

"  All  right,"  said  Henry.     "  Mebbe  it  is." 

"  An'  as  for  what  they  '11  do  —  when  's  your 
trial  comin'  on,  Henery  ?  " 

"  I  do'  know.  Not  for  sev'ral  weeks.  I  guess 
I  ain't  in  any  danger,  Jemimy." 


234  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

He  looked  wistfully  into  her  firm,  keen  face. 
Both  had  up  to  this  avoided  the  topic  as  one  would 
hesitate  to  touch  a  wound.  Jemima's  attack  of 
desperation  found  the  young  man  unprepared. 
"  Oh,  no,  you  ain't  in  a  mite  o'  danger,"  she 
hastened  to  assure  him.  "  The  doctor  tol'  me  so 
himself." 

"  You  heard "  —  Henry's  voice  faltered,  his 
eyes  still  sought  her  face  — "  about  Zielle  an' 
Nicelas  Mann  ?  They  're  goin'  to  be  hung." 

"  An'  no  wonder.  Ringleaders  they  were,  as 
you  might  say.  They  won't  any  harm  come  to 
you.  Don't  ye  fret." 

The  slam  of  doors  interrupted  them,  the  clatter 
of  feet,  the  approach  of  men.  "  What 's  that  ?  " 
cried  Jemima,  whirling  about. 

"  Why,"  said  Henry,  much  surprised  as  he 
craned  his  neck  to  peer  over  her  shoulder,  "  it 's 
ol'  Jacob  Hager.  How  comes  it  they  're  bringin' 
him  back  a' ready?  His  trial  can't  be  through." 

The  little  figure  led  between  two  constables 
was  bent  and  shaking.  Jacob  had  not  spoken 
since  he  learned,  at  the  last  moment,  the  conse 
quences  of  his  plea.  He  stood  listening  to  the  sen 
tence  with  jaw  dropped  and  eyes  protruding. 
Matt  and  Demosthenes  Mix,  seated  side  by  side 
close  to  him,  caught  but  could  not  translate  the 
wild  glance  he  cast  at  them.  They  followed  him 
to  the  jail  without  a  word  to  each  other  or  to  the 
doomed  man.  They  looked  their  consternation, 
which  was  too  entire  for  speech. 

Henry  shrank  to  his  own  side  of  the  cell  as  the 


OLD  JACOB'S  PLEA  235 

other  inmate  was  admitted.  Crouching  on  the 
edge  of  his  bed  he  watched  furtively  the  tumbled 
heap  that  flung  itself  on  the  couch  opposite,  lying 
with  face  buried  in  the  pillow  and  still  never  a 
sound. 

Jemima  Lane  turned  to  Matt,  all  her  womanly 
longing  to  help  showing  in  her  face.  "  What  shall 
we  do  ?  "  he  whispered  in  reply  to  her  look. 

"  Tell  me  what 's  wrong,"  was  her  softly  spoken 
answer. 

Matt  tried  once  to  utter  words  which  would  not 
come.  It  was  Demosthenes  who  said,  "  He  has 
just  learned  that  he  is  to  be  imprisoned  for  life. 
He  did  not  understand.  It  came  as  a  surprise." 

Jemima  eyed  through  twinkling  tears  the  crum 
pled  figure  on  the  bed.  "  I  mistrust  his  wife  is 
what  he  wants,"  said  she. 

"  Oh,  God  bless  you,"  Matt  answered  fervently. 
"  I  've  been  so  confused  —  it  was  all  over  so 
quickly  —  I  never  thought  of  that." 

"  I  '11  go  git  her,"  Jemima  offered. 

A  guard  overheard  the  promise.  He  followed 
her  to  the  door.  "  You  had  better  bring  the  girl, 
too,"  he  volunteered.  "  It  is  their  only  chance  if 
they  want  to  say  good-by.  He  will  be  taken  to 
Clinton  in  the  morning." 

Aghast  at  this  intelligence,  which  seemed  to  add 
frantic  haste  to  her  bad  news,  she  drove  Sam  at 
the  utmost  speed  she  could  coax  from  him,  and  rat 
tled  up  to  the  door  of  the  farmhouse  as  the  silver 
bow  of  a  new  moon  was  rising  over  the  woods  on 
the  hill. 


236  .A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

Gitty  ran  to  the  vestibule  at  the  summons  of 
Jemima's  loud-voiced  "  Whoa."  Her  mother  fol 
lowed  her  in  frightened  curiosity.  Jemima,  climb 
ing  from  the  chaise,  saw  the  women  peering  from 
behind  the  door  ajar.  "  It 's  me,"  she  announced, 
"  Jemimy  Lane.  I  live  to  Mis'  Colton's." 

A  tremendous  interest  swallows  up  self-con 
sciousness.  Gitty  was  no  longer  bashful  or  ill  at 
ease.  "  Oh,  yes,  I  remember,"  she  said,  flinging 
the  door  open.  "  Walk  in.  We  're  pleased  to  see 
you,  I  'm  sure." 

Jemima  advanced  up  the  path,  whip  in  hand,  a 
threatening  figure,  if  any  of  the  three  had  thought 
of  the  effect.  "  I  can't  set,"  she  answered  bluntly. 
"  I  got  'o  git  ye  both  an'  take  ye  back  to  town. 
Put  on  your  bunnet,  Gitty.  Come  along,  Mis' 
Hager.  We  mus'  be  quick  as  ever  we  can." 

Mother  and  daughter  exchanged  glances  of  tired 
sorrow.  "  What  is  it  now  ?  "  groaned  Maria  Hager. 

"Your  husban'  ud  like  to  see  ye.  Matt  sent 
me.  Ain't  that  sufficient  ?  " 

"  No.  There  's  something  more  behind."  Gitty 
had  disappeared  into  the  house  for  her  slat  bonnet. 
The  older  woman  was  obediently  descending  the 
steps,  but  she  paused  while  she  spoke  and  viewed 
her  visitor  with  suspicion. 

Jemima  reached  out  her  rough  hand  to  take 
Mrs.  Hager's. 

"  Well,  it 's  this,  if  you  will  have  it.  He 's  to  be 
took  away  to-morrow.  You  'd  like  to  say  good-by." 

Maria  lifted  a  quivering  face.  "  Are  they  going 
to  kill  him  ?  "  she  asked. 


OLD   JACOB'S  PLEA  237 

"  No,  no.  It 's  only  —  you  see  —  Well,  he 's 
goin'  to  be  put  in  prison." 

Maria's  sigh  was  of  momentary  relief.  After 
wards  she  timidly  inquired,  "  Will  it  be  for 
long?" 

"Yes,  Mis'  Hager."  , 

"How  long?" 

"  For  life." 

Gitty  came  down  the  steps  in  time  to  hear  her 
father's  sentence.  It  might  have  been  because  the 
finite  mind  can  comprehend  only  a  limited  sorrow ; 
it  might  have  been  Jemima  Lane's  strong  nature 
on  which  they  leaned ;  however  this  was  brought 
to  pass,  the  two  weak  women  showed  a  power  of 
resistance  that  amazed  their  companion.  They 
scarcely  once  broke  down  throughout  the  drive, 
nor  during  the  slight  disturbance  their  arrival 
made  at  the  jail.  Enpolt  and  Jury  Post  and  Swart 
had  all  been  given  the  like  punishment  upon  the 
same  plea.  They  were  also  to  be  carried  to  state's 
prison  in  the  morning.  Their  families  were  press 
ing  into  the  jail.  There  was  an  unusual  confusion 
and  noise. 

Matt  stood  in  the  corridor  waiting  for  them. 
He  took  the  hand  his  mother  involuntarily  ex 
tended  and  led  her,  Gitty  following,  to  the  cell. 

Old  Jacob  lay  where  he  had  thrown  himself  on 
the  bed.  He  had  not  stirred. 

"  Father,"  called  Matt,  "  look  up.  Here  's  mo 
ther  come  to  see  you." 

Till  then  he  had  paid  no  heed  to  his  son's  ap 
peals.  When  he  learned  of  Maria's  presence  he 


238  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

turned  as  by  instinct  to  her  sympathy.  He  rolled 
himself  from  the  bed  and  crossed  the  room  to  the 
bars.  His  wife  cried  out  at  sight  of  his  haggard 
face. 

"  Mother,"  said  he  hoarsely,  "  I  done  it  myself. 
It  was  my  own  fault.  I  would  have  Mossy  Mix." 

They  stared  at  him,  his  wife  and  children,  as  if 
he  were  demented.  And  in  truth  such  an  admis 
sion  from  such  a  man  implied  a  mind  that  was 
trembling  and  might  fall. 

"  Matt  warned  me,"  the  low  voice  went  on.  "  He 
tol'  me  Mossy  was  a  fool.  But  I  would  have  him. 
I  would  n't  listen.  An'  now  see  what  they  done 
to  me." 

"  What  ?  "  she  asked,  not  understanding. 

"  I  ain't  never  goin'  to  be  let  out." 

Gitty  gave  an  hysteric  cry.  Her  father  did  not 
appear  to  hear  her.  He  was  looking  earnestly  at 
his  wife.  "I'm  goin'  to  be  kep'  like  this,"  he 
continued,  "  caged  up  as  long  as  I  live.  I  ain't 
goin'  to  come  home  ag'in." 

Maria  wrung  her  hands  in  her  apron.  Matt 
cast  about  in  his  mind  frantically  for  solace.  It 
would  avail  nothing  merely  to  affirm  that  Demos 
thenes'  ignorance  was  in  no  wise  responsible  for 
the  verdict.  The  three  men  sentenced  with  Jacob 
had,  unfortunately  for  the  hypothesis,  employed 
the  same  counsel.  There  was  but  one  bit  of 
comfort  which  Matt  seized  eagerly.  "  After  all, 
father,"  said  he,  "  it  saved  your  life." 

"  Mebbe,"  Jacob  assented.  "  But  I  got  'o  live 
that  life  all  through  in  prison.  I  can't  git  out." 


OLD  JACOB'S   PLEA  239 

Swift  as  a  flash  of  lightning  the  unnatural  calm 
was  gone.  A  cunning  expression  transformed  his 
features.  "  I  won't  stay,"  he  added.  "  I  will  git 
out.  I  '11  run  away." 

"  Oh,  no,  you  won't,"  Maria  pleaded.  "  You  '11 
behave." 

He  made  no  reply.  This  new  hope  so  took 
possession  of  him  that  he  ignored  their  presence. 

"  Father,"  his  wife  ventured  timidly  after  a 
second  of  silence  ;  "  you  know  we  have  got  to  say 
good-by  ?  " 

He  started  violently.     "  Right  away  ?  " 

"  Yes,  right  away.     But  is  n't  it  better  so  ?  " 

She  spoke  with  decision.  Like  most  of  her  sex 
Maria  Hager  could  rise  to  a  supreme  situation. 
The  difficulty  lay  in  its  continuance. 

She  stretched  her  toil-hardened  hand  out  to 
him.  "  Good-by,  father,"  said  she. 

"  Good-by." 

Pie  dropped  the  fingers  pressing  his  own,  took 
Gitty's  nervelessly,  and  passed  on  to  Matt. 

"  I  shall  stay  a  while  longer,"  his  son  an 
nounced. 

Maria  set  her  lips  together.  She  could  hear 
Gitty's  sobs,  but  she  had  no  thought  of  tears. 
They  were  for  other  griefs  than  this.  She  cast 
upon  her  husband  a  last  glance  that  held  as  much 
anxiety  as  sorrow.  "You'll  behave,  father?" 
she  urged. 

It  was  hard  for  her  life-long  reserve  to  say  even 
so  much  to  him.  It  was  harder  for  his  obstinacy 
to  answer  as  she  wished. 


240  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"Mebbe,"  was  the  utmost  he  could  promise. 

They  looked  at  each  other  —  they  who  had  been 
man  and  wife  for  a  quarter  century.  Their  timid 
gaze  might  tell  all  their  lips  refused  to  utter. 
And  then  Matt  mercifully  led  his  mother  away. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

AT   MIX'S 
Poverty  is  a  most  odious  calling.  —  BURTON. 

"  OH,  goody,  goody !  "  cried  Allie  Colton,  throw 
ing  the  door  wide  open.  "  Henry  is  n't  going  to 
be  hung  after  all." 

Phe  and  Jemima  were  tying  a  comfortable  in 
the  spare  room.  Both  women  dropped  needle  and 
worsted  at  the  interruption.  "  Why,  how  you 
startled  us,  child !  "  Phosbe  expostulated.  "  You 
should  n't  say  such  dreadful  things." 

"  Well,  he  is  n't,"  Allie  persisted. 

"You  'd  ought  'o  be  switched,"  Jemima  de 
clared,  resuming  her  work,  "  to  talk  in  that  col'- 
blooded  way  about  poor  Henery  Fisher.  What 
you  heard,  anyhow  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  cold-blooded,  either,"  the  little  boy 
declared.  "  I  was  just  glad.  And  I  'm  a  good 
mind  not  to  tell  you  any  more  —  you  're  so  smart." 

"  Oh,  yes,  tell  us,  lovey,"  coaxed  Phe.  "  Has 
Henry  been  tried  ?  It 's  odd  we  did  n't  hear  of 
it." 

"He  pleaded  guilty,"  said  Allie,  still  rather 
sulky,  "  him  and  a  lot  of  other  men.  Mr.  Gallup 
told  'em  to.  They  've  all  been  fined.  If  they  pay 


242  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

the  money  they  're  going  to  be  let  out.  Almiran 
and  Omar  Mix  too." 

Phe  and  Jemima  Lane  exchanged  significant 
glances.  "  What 's  Henery  fined  ?  "  asked  the 
older  woman. 

"  Three  hundred  dollars.  Is  n't  that  a  lot  of 
money  ?  " 

He  swung  back  arid  forth  from  his  heels  to  his 
toes.  "  I  guess  I  '11  run  tell  mother,"  he  finally 
announced,  and  slammed  the  door  behind  him. 

Phe  regarded  Jemima  anxiously  across  the 
quilting  frames.  "  Henry  has  n't  any  three  hun 
dred  dollars,"  she  said,  "  and  there 's  Mr.  Gallup 
to  pay." 

Jemima,  too,  was  grave.  "  I  presume  he  '11  have 
money  enough,"  she  answered  at  length.  "  Come," 
thrusting  her  needle  into  the  coverlet,  "things 
always  settle  kind  of  by  standin'  for  a  spell.  An' 
we  got  to  git  to  work.  I  want  'o  go  to  town 
before  dark." 

"  Why,  what  for  ?  "  asked  Phe,  opening  her 
eyes  wide. 

"  Bis'ness,"  was  the  curt  response.  Thereupon 
Jemima  bent  to  her  task. 

"  She  intends  to  pay  his  fine,"  thought  Phe. 

The  Anti-rent  trials  had  lasted  for  the  past  two 
months.  During  that  time  twelve  men  had  been 
sentenced  to  serve  terms  of  varying  length  in 
state's  prison.  The  fines  imposed  upon  those 
others  (thirty  in  all)  who  had  thrown  themselves 
upon  the  mercy  of  the  court  ranged  from  five  hun 
dred  dollars  to  twenty-five  dollars.  Omar  Mix  was 


AT  MIX'S  243 

among  the  thirty-nine  who  likewise  pleaded  guilty 
and  whose  sentences  were  suspended.  The  episode 
closed  temporarily  with  the  commutation  by  the 
governor  of  Mann's  and  Zielle's  sentence  to  life 
imprisonment. 

Jemima  went  to  the  village  that  afternoon  as  she 
had  announced.  Some  time  later,  while  the  family 
sat  together  about  the  Franklin  stove  they  heard 
the  clatter  of  feet  on  the  porch.  "  There  is  Je 
mima  now,"  said  Mrs.  Colton. 

"  Henry  's  with  her,"  Allie  added  with  a  child's 
quick  perceptions.  "  Oh,  goody,  goody  !  Henry 
Fisher  's  come." 

He  ran  to  the  door  in  tumultuous  welcome,  fol 
lowed  by  the  others.  On  the  threshold  they  were 
met  by  Jemima,  triumphant,  smiling.  Over  her 
shoulder  appeared  the  shining  face  of  Henry 
Fisher. 

The  good  fellow  was  overcome  by  this  his  first 
sight  of  the  old  home  without  its  master.  The 
very  warmth  of  his  greeting  disconcerted  him.  It 
was  Mrs.  Colton,  with  her  fine  tact,  who  relieved 
his  embarrassment  by  saying,  after  supper,  "  I 
wish  you  both  would  come  into  the  sitting-room, 
please,  and  let  us  have  a  talk  together.  Phe 
and  I  want  your  advice.  There  is  no  one  so  well 
qualified  to  give  it." 

"They  ain't  nobuddy  that  cares  more.  I'm 
sure  o'  that,"  Jemima  answered. 

"  No,  indeed ;  no  one  so  interested,  and  under 
standing  so  thoroughly  how  we  are  placed.  Sit 
here,  Henry,  won't  you  ?  by  the  fire.  Allie,  bring 


244  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

Jemima's  rocking-chair.  Now,  little  boy,  you  may 
go  into  the  parlor  and  read  if  you  like." 

"  I  'd  rather  stay,"  he  announced,  sidling  up  to 
the  speaker.  "  I  want  to  hear  about  it  too." 

Mrs.  Colton  threw  her  arm  around  her  son. 
"  Mother  does  n't  like  to  worry  you,"  she  said. 
"  But  perhaps  it  is  only  right,  Phe  "  — 

She  looked  dependently  at  her  daughter,  as  she 
had  been  wont  to  look  at  her  husband.  Such  a 
character  must  always  have  a  mental  prop,  and 
Phe  was  beginning  to  feel  the  strain  that  frets  a 
woman  who  is  made  head  of  the  household. 

"Yes,"  she  replied.  "Allie  has  learned  so 
much  of  our  affairs  already,  I  fancy  it  would  be 
kinder  to  tell  him  everything." 

"Well,  how  is  it,  Mis'  Colton?"  inquired 
Jemima. 

"  How  is  it  ?  "  Henry  echoed. 

His  red  hands  were  outstretched  awkwardly 
upon  his  knees.  He  breathed  hard,  and  kept  one 
eye  rolled  in  Jemima's  direction. 

"  It 's  about  as  bad  as  it  can  be,"  Phe  explained, 
seeing  her  mother's  hesitation  that  dreaded  to 
formulate  the  facts.  "  Dear  father  had  been  un 
fortunate,  you  know,  before  we  came  to  Farley, 
and  of  course  his  practice  was  not  fully  estab 
lished  here.  We  are  left  with  the  furniture  of  this 
house  and  the  rent  paid  to  the  first  of  March. 
That  much  we  have." 

"And  there  are  lots  of  things  to  eat,"  Allie 
interposed.  "  Corn-house 's  full  and  the  cellar  and 
the  smoke-house." 


AT  MIX'S  245 

"Yes,  dear,  I  was  coming  to  that.  We  have 
provision  for  the  winter.  But  we  must  face  the 
fact  that  our  income  is  cut  off  and  there  is  no  way 
of  making  it  good.  The  question  is,  what  are  we 
to  do." 

"  Yes,"  Jemima  agreed,  nodding  wisely,  "  I  see." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Henry. 

"  We  can't  keep  the  farm  after  next  March. 
We  can't  keep  you  two  with  us.  We  have  no 
money." 

"  I  've  got  some  in  my  bank,"  Allie  inter 
rupted,  —  "  ninety-three  cents." 

"That  is  about  the  amount  of  my  capital," 
Mrs.  Colton  continued,  smiling  tremulously. 
"  Yes,  you  speak,  Jemima.  What  shall  we  do  ?  " 

She  saw  that  Jemima  Lane  had  something  to 
say. 

"  We  can  trade  at  the  store  —  I  mean  you  can," 
for  she  noticed  the  flush  of  worry  on  her  mis 
tress's  cheeks  ;  "  Henery  an'  me  '11  find  something 
or  'nother  to  turn  to.  But  over  an'  above  what 
you  '11  need  there  's  barter  on  this  place  that  '11 
stand  ye  instead  o'  cash.  An'  as  for  money  (I 
know  ye  got  'o  have  some),  I  tell  ye  what  I  've 
been  thinkin'  " 

"  Oh,  you  good  Jemima !  You  have  been  think 
ing,  then  ?  "  cried  Phe,  relieved. 

"We  all  got  'o  think.  We  can't  help  that. 
The  thing  is  to  make  it  o'  some  purpose.  Why 
not  do  this,  Mis'  Colton  ;  the  farm  's  convenient 
to  town,  —  't  ain't  but  a  mile  or  so  " 

"  It 's  a  mile  and  one  eighth,"  said  Allie. 


246  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

"  All  right.  Now  I  've  spied  around  consid'- 
able,  an'  put  some  questions.  I  ain't  been  idle. 
An'  fur 's  I  see,  ye  could  take  three  or  four 
boarders  well  as  not.  They  's  room  enough  an'  to 
spare  up-chamber.  Plenty  young  men  come  into 
town  in  the  winter  to  go  to  school.  They  'd  gladly 
give  ye  a  dollar  a  week  for  board." 

Phe  and  her  mother  sat  transfixed  by  this  sug 
gestion.  "  Do  you  suppose  they  would?"  the  girl 
faltered. 

"  It 's  what  they  pay  all  'round  town.  You  've 
got  sufficient  laid  by  to  feed  'em.  Eve'y buddy 
agrees  on 't  it 's  the  easiest  way  they  is  to  turn  a 
farm  into  money.  Why  don't  ye  try  it  ?  " 

"  Why  don't  ye  ?  "  said  Henry. 

"  They  's  two  new  law  students  in  Mr.  Gallup's 
office.  I  kind  o'  sounded  him  to-day.  I  ain't  a 
doubt  in  the  world  but  they  'd  come.  You  could 
fill  the  house  up  easy.  I  should  n't  wonder  a  mite 
if  ye  could  make  as  much  as  five  dollars  a  week." 

Mrs.  Colton  gasped  at  this  prospect  of  wealth. 

"  It 's  a  lovely  plan,"  exclaimed  her  daughter. 

"  An'  mebbe,"  Jemima  hinted,  with  a  sidelong 
glance,  "  I  might  be  able  to  help  sufficient,  if  ye 
had  your  hands  so  full,  so 't  you  'd  conclude  to 
keep  me.  I  could  afford  to  work  some  cheaper." 

"  Now,  Jemima,"  Phe  expostulated,  tears  spring 
ing  to  her  eyes,  "  don't  say  another  word.  You 
shall  not  try  to  aid  us  by  harming  yourself.  You 
could  get  seventy-five  cents  a  week  anywhere  else, 
and  you  must  not  stay  here  for  less." 

"  Well,   well,   we  won't   say  any  more   about 


AT  MIX'S  247 

that."  Jemima  turned  the  subject  hastily.  "  The 
first  thing  's  to  git  the  boarders." 

A  fretted  frown  fixed  itself  between  Mrs.  Col- 
ton's  brows.  Phe  raised  one  hand  to  her  eyes  in 
an  attitude  of  consideration.  Jemima's  generous 
heart  felt  a  twinge  of  guilt. 

She  had  understood  in  a  general  way  that  the 
Coltons  were  very  poor.  Yet,  while  her  monthly 
wages  were  paid  as  promptly  as  before,  it  did  not 
come  home  to  her  that  the  three  dollars  were  so  seri 
ous  a  loss  to  the  mistress.  She  had  been  aware 
that  the  present  state  of  affairs  could  not  continue, 
without  seeing  that  it  must  end  at  once.  "  O'  course 
Henery  an'  me  can  find  places,"  she  said  with  ap 
parent  irrelevance,  "  an'  not  so  far  away  but  what 
we  can  all  keep  together,  kind  of.  We  'd  be  lost 
without  this  house  to  come  to  once  in  a  while.  But, 
first  off,  we  must  see  you  fixed  here  an'  ev'rything 
ready.  Henery  Fisher,  you  better  go  to  bed.  Take 
Allie  too.  We  want  to  talk  this  over." 

Far  into  the  night  the  three  women  consulted  as 
to  ways  and  means.  Some  outlay  was  necessary 
at  the  opening  of  their  scheme.  And  whence  should 
be  obtained  even  the  smallest  sum  to  which  they 
condensed  their  requirements  ? 

"  Oh,  we  will  manage,  mother,"  Phe  reassured 
Mrs.  Colton  when  she  grew  white  and  scared.  Yet 
the  girl's  heart  was  heavy.  She  had  led  hitherto 
the  sheltered,  careless  life  of  a  child.  She  was 
pushed  suddenly  into  the  position  of  a  man  fighting 
for  his  family's  being  in  a  brutal  world.  The  want 
of  a  piteously  small  amount  of  money  weighed 


248  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

upon  her  with  its  resultant  scheming,  till  she  felt 
crushed  as  if  beneath  another  grief. 

One  day,  soon  after  their  decision,  while  the 
matter  moved  forward  with  a  teasing  sloth,  she  was 
forced  to  go  to  Mix's.  She  dared  not  trust  her 
purchases  to  Allie.  Henry  had  already  found  a 
home  for  the  winter  at  the  Hager  farm,  and  Je 
mima  proved  too  busy  to  be  spared. 

"  I  must  make  the  best  bargain  I  can,"  thought 
Phe,  "  and  make  it  myself  to  be  certain  the  pen 
nies  are  stretched  as  far  as  they  will  go.  I  hate 
the  whole  thing ;  those  lounging  men  sitting  around 
the  stove  will  listen  to  me  and  nudge  each  other. 
Suppose  he  should  be  there  !  I  could  not  bear  that 
—  for  him  to  see  how  mean  and  greedy  I  must  be." 

She  felt  the  pinch  of  poverty  more  acutely  from 
her  father's  open-handed  manner  of  life,  which  had 
left  them  to  such  distress,  this  result  forming  one 
of  the  two-edged  evils  of  extravagance.  Phe  could 
confide  in  no  one.  She  suffered  likewise  from  that 
reserve  wherein  her  soul  cowered  in  a  proud  pain 
from  display  of  poverty.  Accustomed  to  an  atti 
tude  of  implied  superiority  over  these  Farley 
friends,  she  sickened  at  the  notion  that  they  might 
now  condescend  to  pity  her.  "  Keeping  boarders  " 
was  thus  harder  for  Phe  than  even  for  her  mother, 
and  the  trifling  incident  of  considering  a  cent  the 
more  or  less  at  Mix's  appeared  for  the  moment 
the  greatest  of  her  trials. 

She  conducted  her  purchases  in  an  undertone 
and  with  hurried  gestures.  Josephine  Mix  aided 
the  selection  with  a  good-natured  sympathy,  igno- 


AT  MIX'S  249 

rant  but  kindly,  to  Phe's  manifest  discomfort. 
Finally  she  whispered  through  the  buzz  of  gossip 
about  the  stove,  — 

"  Heard  the  news  up  at  your  house  ?  " 

"  I  don't  remember  any,"  Phe  answered,  trying 
to  be  civil. 

"  It  only  happened  this  morning.  Squire  May- 
ham  had  another  stroke.  He  's  dead." 

"  Oh,  is  he  ?  " 

Phe  thought  at  once  —  her  cares  were  become 
so  sordid  —  that  the  Squire  had  not  paid  her 
father's  bill.  She  wondered  anxiously  whether 
they  would  lose  this  that  they  had  counted  upon. 
Josephine's  voice  recalled  her  to  the  conversation. 
"  Matt  Hager  '11  come  into  every  penny.  So  pa 
says.  He  '11  be  as  rich  as  a  Jew." 

"  Oh,  is  that  so  ?  "  Phe  queried  aimlessly. 

"  Yes,  indeed.  I  know  it  for  a  fact.  My  !  Think 
of  that  elegant  house  and  grounds !  And  they  say 
it 's  chuck  full  of  the  most  splendid  things  you 
ever  saw  in  your  life,  —  silver,  and  china,  and  cut 
glass.  Pa 's  went  there  sometimes.  He  says  you 
could  see  your  face  in  the  mahogany  sideboard. 
And  the  table  linen  was  like  satin." 

"  That 's  very  nice,"  said  Phe. 

"  And  carriages  and  horses.  And  all  them  ter 
races  with  the  stone  steps  leading  down.  And  a 
rose  walk,  and  arbors,  and  summer-houses.  I  asked 
pa  if  there  was  sufficient  to  run  it  with.  He  did 
laugh.  He  says  the  Squire  was  as  rich  as  mud. 
And  Matt  gets  every  penny." 

"  That 's  nice,"  Phe  repeated ;  "  I  'm  glad." 


250  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"  He  '11  be  a  catch,  I  tell  you,"  added  Josephine 
with  a  conscious  laugh. 

Another  customer  pushed  her  way  forward  just 
then.  Phe  heard  her  question,  "  You  heard  about 
Matt  Hager  ?  "  before  she  seized  her  opportunity 
to  slip  away. 

The  thoughts  attending  her  homeward  path  were 
in  a  strange  confusion.  To  himself  Matt  had  praised 
the  sweet  humility  with  which  Phe  stooped  to  him 
and  seemed  unmindful  how  far  she  was  obliged  to 
stoop.  This  was  true.  Yet  no  sooner  was  Matt 
raised,  by  all  the  standards  either  knew,  to  an  im 
measurable  height  from  whence  to  survey  her 
losses,  than  Phoebe  Colton  became  bitterly  proud. 

"  I  told  Josephine  I  was  glad,"  she  said,  address 
ing  a  katydid  clamoring  on  the  wayside  wall. 
"  And  it  was  not  true.  I  am  a  different  person, 
now  I  am  poor.  I  am  selfish,  and  grudging,  and 
covetous.  I  believe  in  my  heart  I  am  sorry  that 
he  should  be  so  rich." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE   LADY   OF  THE   AIR   CASTLE 
He  proud  and  rich,  I  very  proud  and  poor.  —  CKABBE 

ONE  day,  Matt  Hager,in  examining  his  cousin's 
papers,  came  upon  an  unopened  letter.  He  found 
it  contained  a  bill  for  Dr.  Col  ton's  services.  Ar 
riving  probably  at  some  period  of  alarm  at  the 
invalid's  condition,  it  had  been  thrust  aside  at 
the  time  and  afterwards  forgotten.  Matt  glanced 
along  the  column  of  figures,  shamefaced  at  the 
neglect,  but  sentimental  with  the  fancy  that  Phe's 
hand  formed  the  pretty,  minute  characters.  "  To 
think  of  their  never  hearing  from  it !  "  he  groaned. 
"  They  must  despise  us  all  out  here.  And  how  am 
I  going  to  give  it  to  them  ?  " 

The  big  boy,  simple,  unused  to  the  handling  of 
money,  never  entertained  the  notion  of  a  check 
sent  by  mail.  To  him  payment  meant  so  many 
dollars  delivered  in  person  to  Mrs.  Colton,  while 
Phe  stood  by  with  crimson  cheeks  and  lowered 
eyes.  He  saw  it  all  as  in  a  picture.  What  he 
did  not  see  was  the  pressing  need  of  the  amount. 
Like  most  men,  he  had  always  taken  elegance  of 
living  and  dignified  reserve  to  denote  a  liberal  in 
come.  When  he  heard  of  the  doctor's  death,  in 


252  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

common  with  many  less  peculiarly  interested,  he 
concluded,  "  Well,  I  guess  they  're  left  pretty  well 
off." 

Yet,  while  there  was  no  conception  of  Phe's  true 
attitude,  this  new  tie  between  them  brought  to  him 
a  subtle  sensation,  not  so  coarse  as  power,  not  so 
clearly  defined  as  hope.  For  the  first  time  since 
he  heard  of  his  father's  arrest,  he  began  to  weave 
a  day-dream  with  Phe  for  its  heroine. 

"  If  she  would  have  me  "  — 

He  sat  musing  at  the  huge  mahogany  desk, 
with  its  emptied  pigeonholes  and  shallow  drawers 
drawn  out  for  investigation.  He  pushed  back  his 
armchair  and  strode  over  to  the  chimney  corner. 
With  one  foot  on  the  fender  and  his  elbow  resting 
on  the  mantelpiece,  he  gazed  down  into  the  dan 
cing  fire  reflected  in  the  andirons.  He  stretched 
his  hand  almost  timidly  toward  a  silver  candle 
stick,  lifting  it  from  its  primly  set  place.  He  gave 
a  little  foolish  laugh. 

"  I  believe  I  '11  just  take  a  look  around,"  he 
thought. 

He  was  safe  from  observation,  no  matter  what 
his  folly.  The  servants  at  the  Mayham  place  were 
not  one  with  the  family  as  in  most  Farley  houses. 
In  his  loneliness  Matt  endeavored  to  keep  Miss 
Azubah  with  him  for  at  least  the  winter.  But  her 
gentle  resolution  was  like  a  soft  pillow  assuming 
its  original  form  as  soon  as  pressure  upon  it  was 
removed.  She  had  arranged  her  plans  for  the 
future,  and  when  the  Squire's  .death  released  her, 
departed  forthwith  to  a  new  home.  His  mother 


THE   LADY   OF  THE   AIR  CASTLE         253 

could  not  be  induced  to  leave  the  farm,  nor  was 
Matt  free  to  forsake  his  legacy  with  its  countless 
responsibilities.  He  passed  his  days  in  an  isolation 
splendid  to  onlookers,  forlorn  for  him  who  bore  it. 

So  he  closed  the  door  on  the  library,  with  its 
faint  odor  of  Russia  leather  and  its  row  of  high- 
backed  chairs.  He  crossed  the  wide  hall  to  the 
foot  of  the  stairs,  and,  holding  his  candle  above  his 
head,  looked  up  their  curving  length. 

"  I  can  see  the  flutter  of  her  gown,"  he  mused, 
"  as  she  runs  down  the  steps  to  the  landing.  Then 
she  spies  me  waiting  here,  and  she  comes  more 
quickly.  The  logs  are  lighted  in  the  fireplace 
yonder.  The  blaze  shines  out  upon  her  as  she 
draws  nearer.  It  shows  her  white  frock  with  the 
little  flowers  all  over  it,  and  the  slippers  when  she 
holds  her  skirt  aside.  Joe  has  waxed  the  wood 
work  till  it  shines  like  glass.  Suppose  she  should 
not  heed  in  her  hurry ;  suppose  she  slip  and  I 
spring  forward  to  catch  her  "- 

He  bit  his  lip  over  the  sweet  words  running  un- 
articulated  through  his  mind.  They  had  grown 
too  sweet.  He  trembled,  and  turned  aside. 

"  Then  we  would  go  to  the  drawing-room,"  he 
continued,  his  fingers  upon  the  knob.  "  She  crosses 
the  floor,  leading  me,  and  she  asks, '  Shall  I  play 
for  you,  Matt,  till  the  tea-bell  rings  ?  '  Gitty  said 
she  could  play.  I  sit  here  in  my  armchair  on  the 
hearth,"  he  took  up  his  station,  gazing  about  him, 
"  and  she  —  there  —  while  I  watch  her.  I  should 
sit  like  this  and  look." 

He  drew  the  chair  forward,  its  claw  legs  rolling 


254  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

softly  over  the  Eastern  rug.  He  threw  himself 
into  its  soft  depths  and  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  oppo 
site  wall.  The  graceful  old  spinnet  stood  open. 
Candelabra,  glistening  by  Matt's  taper  in  every 
prism,  were  mirrored  in  the  rosewood  surface.  A 
sheet  of  yellowed  music  was  spread  upon  the  rack. 
When  they  were  children,  brought  to  visit  their 
cousin,  Matt  and  Gitty  used  to  pretend  that  this 
stately  home  was  theirs  and  they  were  man  and 
woman  enjoying  the  somewhat  awful  grandeur  of 
the  drawing-room.  To-night  Matt  pretended  once 
more. 

"  Her  head  is  hid  by  the  music,"  he  told  himself, 
"  so  that  I  cannot  see  her  face.  The  tune  she  has 
chosen  is  sad,  and  her  touch  is  very  soft.  That 
shadow  is  the  flow  of  her  light  gown  beside  her  on 
the  floor.  She  is  speaking  to  me  in  the  music, 
and  I  listen  here  by  the  fire." 

So  he  imagined,  by  and  by,  that  she  rose  and 
strolled  about  the  room.  He  watched  her  little 
airs  of  ownership,  adjusting  the  folds  of  the  dam 
ask  curtains,  or  straightening  here  and  there  a 
book  on  the  centre-table,  and  a  carved  chair  against 
the  wall.  At  length  she  came  to  his  side. 

"  Are  you  asleep,  Matt  ?  "  she  inquired.  "  Han 
nah  is  calling  us  to  tea." 

He  started  up,  his  pulses  beating  thickly.  A 
subdued  tinkle  sounded  from  the  hallway  as  if  to 
confirm  the  fancy.  Hannah  was  summoning  the 
master  —  ah,  but  there  was  no  mistress. 

Yet  the  thought  had  been  so  humored  that 
henceforth  it  was  easier  to  go  further  than  to  rea- 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AIR  CASTLE         255 

son  and  remember.  Matt  sat  alone  at  the  round 
table,  with  Joe  Murray  behind  his  chair.  But 
across  the  glitter  of  glass  and  silver  he  saw  a  fig 
ure  facing  him,  he  heard  the  sweet,  insistent  tone 
of  a  girl  voice  in  the  chatter  of  a  girl.  She  was 
relating  the  events  of  a  day  which  he  had  spent  in 
affairs  outside  the  house. 

After  the  meal  he  led  her  back  to  the  study. 
The  long,  high  settle  was  pulled  out  at  a  right 
angle  with  the  fire.  They  sat  here  side  by  side, 
and  she  read  to  him  from  one  of  the  rows  of  vol 
umes  reaching  along  the  sides  of  the  room,  seldom 
opened,  richly  bound  books,  —  "  the  classics,"  Matt 
had  heard  them  called. 

And  while  the  dear  voice  pronounced  the  im 
pressive  sentences,  his  mind  roved  on  again. 
Among  the  great  rooms  in  the  house  there  was  one 
chamber  never  opened  since  Cousin  Deidamia's 
death,  save  as  the  maids  or  Miss  Azubah  rever 
ently  crossed  the  threshold  to  see  that  its  spotless 
order  was  preserved.  Only  the  other  day  Matt, 
passing  the  door,  had  been  called  in  to  help  Sarah 
in  moving  the  ponderous  toilet-table.  He  recalled 
the  quaint  mirror  and  saw  the  face  of  his  wife 
given  back  by  the  glass.  He  remembered  tales 
Gitty  had  told  him  of  laces  laid  away  in  those 
drawers,  of  crepe  shawls  and  delicate  garments 
scented  by  rose  leaves  and  lavender,  of  the  mahog 
any  wardrobes  whose  depths  disclosed,  long  ago, 
for  an  admiring  little  girl,  gowns  of  silk  that 
"  would  stand  alone,"  brocade  and  satin  and  a  cir 
cular  cloak  of  Lyons  velvet. 


256  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"Phe  shall  have  them  all,"  he  concluded. 
"  Cousin  Marcus  won't  care  —  now." 

The  little  white  gown  with  its  sprays  of  flowers 
became,  on  the  instant,  too  simple.  Phe  must 
wear  the  jewels  that  once  sparkled  on  Mrs.  May- 
ham's  fingers.  He  must  find  for  her  the  cameo 
brooch  that  pinned  the  laces  at  Cousin  Deida- 
mia's  throat. 

Matt's  mood  had  so  beguiled  him,  he  had  so 
yielded  to  its  insistence,  that  he  was  not  fully 
awakened  when,  on  the  following  morning,  he 
rode  down  the  avenue  on  his  way  to  Mrs.  Colton. 
He  loathed  his  errand,  but  he  reflected  doggedly 
that  there  was  nothing  to  gain  by  delay.  Nor 
could  he  wholly  regret  any  excuse  which  called 
him  to  Phe's  presence.  To-day  he  went,  for  his 
dream's  sake,  like  a  glad-hearted  boy.  He  was 
thorough-going  in  this  as  in  all  things.  Reso 
lutely  pushing  away  the  memory  of  disgrace,  he 
had  toyed  with  unrealities  until  they  cheated  him 
into  security. 

Not  only  had  Matt  no  intimation  of  what  in 
Phe's  eyes  were  their  relative  positions,  but  he 
failed  to  consider  all  his  apparent  neglect  might 
mean  to  her.  She  was  so  constantly  in  his  mind, 
it  was  so  dear  a  delight  to  seek  her  out,  that  he 
supposed  she  understood  it  was  obligation  alone 
that  withheld  him.  His  home  experience  might 
have  served  to  show  a  woman  takes  nothing  for 
granted.  As  ^he  refused  to  learn  from  others,  he 
must  pay  the  price  for  the  fond  belief  that  this 
creature  he  raised  above  all  other  things  created 


THE   LADY   OF  THE   AIR  CASTLE         257 

was,  in  truth,  superior  to  every  feminine  fault. 
So  he  cantered  gayly  along  the  country  road  to 
her. 

A  gray  sky  bent  low  over  the  white  land.  The 
trees  threw  delicate  tracery  of  twig  and  bough 
against  the  soft  background  that  refreshed  eyes 
wearied  by  the  expanse  of  glistening  snow.  Matt's 
high  spirits  bounded  higher  still.  The  motion  of 
his  fine  horse,  the  stinging  air  with  its  promise  of 
coming  storm,  the  goal  to  which  his  face  was  set, 
the  memory  of  last  night's  pastime,  most  of  all 
the  inevitable  reaction  after  months  of  trouble,  — 
these  brought  happiness  back  to  him. 

Allie  spied  him  in  the  distance  and  ran  to  tell 
his  sister.  She  was  constructing  an  ottoman  in 
an  endeavor  to  eke  out  the  inadequate  furniture  of 
a  boarder's  room.  If  Matt  had  but  suspected  it, 
Phe's  scissors  were  snipping  at  the  very  French 
calico  gown  she  had  worn  last  night  in  his  fancy. 
Her  eyes  were  red  from  crying  over  the  sale  of 
Sam  and  the  doctor's  chaise.  This,  the  day  of 
Matt's  returning  joy,  was  the  most  entirely  hope 
less,  so  she  felt,  that  she  had  ever  known. 

"  I  '11  answer  the  knocker,"  she  said  primly  in 
response  to  her  brother's  offer. 

Phe  possessed  her  mother's  theories  of  propri 
ety.  A  touch  here  and  there  removed  from  her 
person  every  trace  of  a  morning's  hard  work.  It 
was  no  drudge  who  opened  the  door  to  Matt. 

He  did  not  notice  that  her  black  gown  was 
cheap  and  worn.  She  saw  at  one  glance  the  fine 
material  of  his  garments,  the  band  of  crepe  about 


258  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

his  arm,  the  gold-headed  riding- whip  he  carried. 
This  was  another  Mathice  from  the  farmer's  boy, 
and  she  was  another  woman. 

There  is  a  curious  power  in  mere  clothes.  Phe 
felt  at  her  worst  in  her  old  frock,  Matt  at  his 
best  in  the  mourning  outfit  Miss  Azubah  had  told 
him  he  must  buy  in  honor  of  the  Squire. 

"  Good-morning,"  said  he  with  a  novel  assurance. 
"  May  I  speak  to  your  mother,  please  ?  " 

She  thought  him  patronizing.  "  Certainly,"  she 
answered.  And  his  high  heart  went  down. 

"  Come  into  the  parlor,  won't  you  ?  "  Phe  con 
tinued  in  the  same  sweet  frigidity.  "  I  will  find 
my  mother.  She  is  upstairs,  I  believe." 

Matt  followed  her,  stumbling  over  the  raised 
threshold.  It  was  not  so  she  had  led  him  yester 
day,  nor  was  this  the  lady  of  his  air  castle.  He 
grasped  despairingly  at  that  fleeting  bliss.  "  Don't 
go,"  he  entreated,  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor.  "  I  wanted  to  see  you  too.  Don't  go." 

"  But  I  must  go,"  Phe  expostulated  with  a  dis 
tant  smile,  "  if  I  am  to  call  my  mother." 

"  Maybe  you  need  n't."  Matt's  wits  had  utterly 
deserted  him.  Never  swift  of  comprehension,  he 
was  confused  by  the  crash  of  his  phantasies  in 
their  fall.  "  Maybe  you  would  do  just  as  well," 
he  went  on.  "  I  came  to  pay  a  bill." 

His    face  grew  scarlet.      Phe's   cheeks   turned' 
white.     "  I  will  do  quite  as  well,"  she  answered, 
and  held  out  her  hand  to  him. 

Matt  drew  his  wallet  sullenly  from  his  breast 
pocket.  To  Phe's  morbid  acuteness  it  appeared 


THE  LADY  OF  THE   AIR  CASTLE         259 

aggressively  plump.  The  roll  of  bills  from  which 
he  selected  what  he  wished  represented  a  fortune 
for  her.  He  laid  these  in  the  outstretched  fin 
gers  and  fumbled  in  a  trousers  pocket  for  the  odd 
change.  He  brought  out  a  little  pile  of  silver, 
counting  it  aloud. 

"  Is  that  right?  "  he  asked. 

Phe  had  bitten  her  lip  till  it  was  bleeding.  She 
raised  her  handkerchief  so  that  he  could  not  see. 
"  Yes,  that  is  right,"  she  said. 

"  I  had  no  idea  this  had  been  neglected.  I  only 
ran  across  it  yesterday.  I  suppose  Cousin  Mark 
was  too  sick  to  open  the  letter  at  the  proper  time. 
I  am  very  sorry." 

"  It  is  of  no  consequence,"  was  the  lofty  reply. 

"  She  despises  me,"  thought  Matt,  "  because  I 
am  rich.  While  I  was  poor  and  in  trouble  she 
pitied  me.  But  I  do  cut  a  contemptible  figure 
strutting  about  as  the  Squire's  heir  with  my  father 
in  prison  for  life." 

"  He  despises  me,"  thought  Phe,  "  because  I  am 
poor.     He  comes  here    flaunting   his    riches    and 
forcing  me  to  take  his  money.     It  is  hateful  — 
hateful  of  him." 

She  had  not  even  asked  their  guest  to  be  seated. 
The  brief  interview  ended,  Matt  turned  toward 
the  door.  "  Your  mother  well  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Very  well,  thank  you,"  answered  Phe.  "  I 
saw  Gitty  a  day  or  two  ago." 

"  Ah,  did  you  ?  "  said  Matt.    "  Good-by." 

"  Good-by,"  she  responded  promptly. 

As  he  opened  the  front  door  Demosthenes  Mix 


260  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

came  up  the  path.  He  wore  the  air  of  one  very 
much  at  home. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  demanded  Matt, 
who  was  still  not  altogether  responsible  for  his 
speech. 

But  Demosthenes  never  recognized  rudeness 
if  he  encountered  it.  He  smiled  radiantly  upon 
Mathice.  "  I  live  here,"  he  explained  in  his  pom 
pous  tones.  "  You  know  I  gave  up  my  room  at 
father's  long  ago,  when  I  began  to  practice  in  town. 
And  Mrs.  Colton  has  taken  me  to  board  for  the 
winter.  It  is  an  extremely  pleasant  arrangement." 

"  It  must  be,"  Matt  replied. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

ON  THE  WAY  HOME 

"  Rue  and  thyme  grow  baith  in  ae  garden." 

To  Matt  Hager  the  winter  passed  in  a  curious 
medley  of  feeling.  Most  of  us  have  a  personified 
conscience,  and  Phe  Colton  had  been  his.  So  long 
as  he  imagined  she  sympathized  with  his  disgrace, 
the  arrogance  he  inherited  held  its  head  on  high. 
The  shame,  moreover,  was  so  widespread,  the  en 
tire  community  so  thoroughly  shared  crime  and 
punishment,  that,  although  Matt  felt  both  keenly, 
he  had  comprehended  neither  as  it  appeared  before 
him  now.  For  with  Phe's  support  withdrawn  he 
saw  the  situation,  not  indeed  as  it  was,  but  in  the 
distorted  proportions  of  a  mood  altogether  alien  to 
his  temperament.  He  stood,  in  his  imagination, 
before  Phe  and  before  all  his  world,  disloyal  to 
Anti-rent  in  its  hour  of  need,  rewarded  by  riches 
and  honors  for  his  treachery  —  and  his  father  suffer 
ing  in  his  stead. 

This  is  what  he  fancied  men  were  saying  as  they 
pointed  him  out  or  whispered  together.  He  never 
guessed  that  the  notice  he  excited  was  aroused 
by  comments  on  his  luck,  —  on  the  statement, 
"  That  young  fellow  there  is  the  richest  chap  in  the 


262  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

county."  More  and  more  he  kept  to  himself.  His 
daily  visit  to  his  mother  enlivened  his  sensitiveness, 
for  she  could  talk  of  nothing  save  his  father  and  the 
painful  details  of  Jacob's  condition.  There  were 
letters  to  write  to  the  prisoner,  and  expectations, 
never  fulfilled,  of  some  word  in  reply. 

Yet  Mathice  was  too  resolute  and  confident  to  be 
always  cowed.  Again  and  again  in  a  revolutionary 
spirit  he  started  up  declaring  he  should  go  to  Phe 
Colton  and  demand  of  her  whether  love  between 
them  was  indeed  impossible.  Then  the  remem 
brance  of  her  cold  courtesy  alarmed  him  and  he 
drew  back.  With  the  spring  arose  an  excuse  at 
which  he  grasped  to  take  a  long  business  journey 
in  the  West.  His  normal  healthy  state  of  mind 
worked  uppermost  in  the  bustle  of  last  arrange 
ments,  and  it  was  the  old  Matt  Hager  who  said  to 
Gitty  on  the  day  before  he  left  home,  "I  sup 
pose  I  might  as  well  drop  in  and  bid  the  Coltons 
good-by." 

"  Why,  yes,"  she  assented  indifferently.  "  I 
should  think  you  would  want  to." 

On  his  way  through  Farley  Matt  stopped  before 
the  little  office  of  Demosthenes  Mix.  He  had  re 
peatedly  offered  to  pay  the  lawyer  for  his  services 
to  old  Jacob,  and  repeatedly  been  told  with  a  wave 
of  the  hand  that  Demosthenes  was  too  busy  to 
bother  with  the  matter  at  present.  Matt  knew  this 
to  be  partly  the  pose  of  the  man  and  partly  the 
vanity  of  a  young  worker  magnifying  his  work's 
success.  Such  demonstrations  from  Mossy  Mix 
had  amused  him  once.  At  present  they  irritated 


ON   THE   WAY  HOME  263 

Mathice,  because,  without  formulating  the  idea,  he 
was  conscious  this  aforetime  despised  rival  seemed 
nowadays  ridiculously  contented,  risen  on  the  wings 
of  a  secret  happiness  above  sordid  considerations 
of  money-making.  Matt  was  in  a  determined  hu 
mor  as  he  entered  the  office  and  announced  he  had 
come  "  this  time  "  to  discharge  his  debt. 

"Oh,  well,"  conceded  Demosthenes  with  his 
usual  condescension,  "  as  you  like,  as  you  like.  I 
will  look  up  the  account  directly."  He  fluttered 
the  leaves  of  a  ledger.  "  So  I  hear  you  are  going 
to  travel  ?  "  • 

"  Yes,"  said  Matt,  standing  grave  and  quiet  by 
the  door ;  "  I  am." 

"  And  on  the  whole  I  should  consider  it  a  very 
sensible  course  to  pursue." 

"  It  is,"  was  the  gruff  reply.  "  I  am  going  West 
on  business." 

"  I  mean,"  continued  the  unruffled  flow  of  words, 
"  that  over  and  above  any  mercenary  motives,  you 
must  be  weary  of  your  isolation  in  that  out-of-the- 
world  May  ham  place.  I  have  thought  of  you  often 
and  pitied  you  this  winter,  Mathice.  For  one  I 
have  never  envied  you  your  inheritance." 

Matt  smiled  slightly  at  the  boyish  spite.  Then 
he  grew  sober.  "  Heaven  knows  there  is  no  reason 
why  you  should,"  he  answered. 

Demosthenes  was  copying  items  from  the  ledger 
to  a  slip  of  paper,  but  he  talked  on  meanwhile  as  if 
the  action  were  automatic.  "  Yes,  I  have  ample 
cause  to  be  satisfied.  There  is  no  need,  as  you 
justly  observe,  why  I  should  covet  your  goods.  I 
have  enough  of  my  own." 


264  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"  I  did  not  justly  observe  anything  of  the  sort," 
interrupted  his  listener.  "  And  why  should  you 
be  so  thundering  happy  all  at  once  ?  " 

Demosthenes  smiled  fatuously  over  his  figures. 
"  Why  should  I  not  ?  "  he  retorted.  "  I  am  in  a 
delightful  home,  and  I  look  forward  to  one  more 
delightful  still.  I  am  partially  engaged  to  be  mar 
ried." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  partially  engaged  ?  " 

The  rough  tone,  the  manner  almost  threatening, 
were  lost  upon  Demosthenes.  "  I  mean,"  he  an 
swered  glibly,  "  that  Phrebe  Colton  has  promised 
conditionally  to  marry  me." 

Matt  extended  his  hand  for  the  bill.  "  How  much 
is  it  ?  "  he  asked.  And,  on  seeing  the  amount,  he 
added  ten  dollars  to  his  payment.  "  I  '11  give  you 
that  for  a  present,  Mossy,"  he  swaggered. 

Demosthenes  colored  —  but  he  took  the  money  ; 
while  Matt  felt  something  of  the  teasing  spirit  of 
his  Indian  days  in  the  revenge  of  humiliating  this 
enviable  man. 

He  did  not  go  to  bid  Phe  good-by.  He  chose 
the  shortest  road  to  his  home,  where  he  tried  to 
cheat  himself  into  fancying  there  was  so  much  left 
undone  that  he  should  have  no  time  to  think.  He 
left  his  horse  at  the  stable  and  walked  along  the 
flower  garden  to  the  house. 

Crazy  Dan  was  setting  up  a  trellis  by  the  rose- 
bed.  He  smiled  on  the  tall,  broad-shouldered  fel 
low  striding  down  the  path  between  the  lilac  hedges. 
Purple  plumes  flung  out  their  fragrance  as  they 
swung  in  the  sunlight  above  the  young  heir's  head. 


ON  THE  WAY  HOME  265 

Amid  the  bloom  and  beauty  his  dark  face  cast  a 
shadow.  It  awakened  the  confused  brain  to  an 
inevitable  commentary  :  — 

"  There  is  a  sore  evil  which  I  have  seen  under 
the  sun,  namely,  riches  kept  for  the  owner  thereof 
to  their  hurt.  For  what  is  a  man  advantaged,  if 
he  gain  the  whole  world,  and  lose  himself  ?  " 

"  What  indeed  ?  "  Matt  bitterly  repeated. 

Mr.  Rockwell,  likewise  boarding  with  Phe  and 
her  mother,  announced  at  the  supper-table  that  he 
understood  Mathice  Hager  was  going  West  for  a 
long  stay.  "  He  has  grown  proud,"  he  added. 
"  I  met  him,  this  noon,  on  my  way  from  school. 
He  was  riding  toward  the  Mayham  place  and  I  in 
the  footpath  as  near  as  I  am  to  you,  Miss  Phoebe. 
He  never  once  looked  at  me.  To  think  of  the  times 
I  have  thrashed  that  boy !  I  don't  like  such  ways." 

"  Neither  do  I,"  said  Phoebe  with  burning  cheeks. 
The  next  moment  she  rebuked  Allie  for  greediness. 
His  mother  motioned  him  not  to  answer.  It  was 
Mrs.  Colton  who  led  the  conversation  away  from 
Matt  Hager. 

The  Squire's  heir  found  sufficient  excuse  to  keep 
him  from  his  dreary  home  until  late  in  the  autumn. 
He  had  lingered  on  in  Iowa  under  one  pretext 
after  another,  until  repeated  misspelled  appeals 
from  the  farmer  left  in  charge  convinced  him  that 
his  presence  was  necessary  at  Farley. 

Matt's  return  took  place  in  the  tumult  of  an  ex 
citing  election.  The  Anti-rent  contention  had  come 
to  seriously  affect  State  politics.  In  this  year  — 
1846  —  the  Downrenters  united  with  the  Whigs  on 


266  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

a  candidate  for  governor,  with  the  Democrats  on 
one  for  lieutenant-governor.  They  supported  a 
friend  to  the  cause  as  State  senator,  and  twelve 
men  for  the  Assembly.  The  election  proved  a 
sweeping  victory  for  the  tenants,  and  was  felt  in 
Farley  to  be  the  more  telling  from  the  distrust 
caused  by  the  crime  of  Hager's  sale.  There  was 
such  rejoicing  as  the  sleepy  town  had  never  dis 
played  for  a  favorite's  arrival  at  the  White  House. 

Matt  stopped  to  inform  his  family  as  to  the  result. 
"  Of  course  Mossy  Mix  has  to  scold,"  he  remarked, 
"  and  shake  his  head,  and  wonder  if  after  all  it 's 
for  the  best.  That  fellow  lives  more  on  his  superi 
ority  to  the  rest  of  us  than  he  does  on  meat  and 
drink." 

"  Oh,  I  forgot  you  had  n't  heard,"  Gitty  an 
swered.  "  We  're  a  little  suspicious  of  Mossy 
lately.  Did  you  know  he  was  related  to  Lawyer 
VanZandt?" 

"  Why,  no,"  was  Matt's  reply.  "  Everybody 
here  is  related  to  everybody  else.  But  I  never 
knew  that.  What  difference  does  it  make,  any 
way?" 

"  Folks  think  it  might  have  made  a  difference 
in  what  he  did  for  his  clients." 

Matt  interrupted  her  quickly  :  "  Stuff  and  non 
sense  !  Don't  let  mother  get  hold  of  that." 

"  No,  I  have  n't.  But  it  has  hurt  Mossy.  Peo 
ple  seem  prejudiced." 

Matt's  lip  curled  disdainfully.  "Oh,  the  fel 
low  's  honest  enough,"  he  acknowledged  in  grudg 
ing  truthfulness.  Here  he  changed  the  subject. 


ON  THE  WAY  HOME  267 

"  Well,  I  '11  be  in  to-morrow  evening  to  stay  with 
mother  if  you  want  to  go  to  singing-school."  He 
took  up  his  hat  and  began  revolving  it  on  his  hand. 
"  Mossy  Mix  going  to  be  married  ?  " 

"  Not  that  I  know  of.     Who  to  ?  " 

Matt  eyed  the  opposite  wall  attentively.  "  Phe 
Colton,"  said  he  in  his  throat. 

A  light  of  relief  leaped  to  Gitty's  face.  "  I 
could  n't  tell  you,"  she  answered.  "  Maybe  he  is, 
he's  after  her  so  strong.  But  then,"  candidly, 
"  so  is  Mr.  Rockwell,  and  that  student  in  Mr.  Gal- 
lup's  office,  and  —  and  other  folks,  too.  I  don't 
know,  I  'm  sure." 

"  Well,  good-night,"  said  Matt. 

Phe  had  rented  both  her  melodeon  and  her  ser 
vices  as  a  musician  to  the  singing-class  for  the 
season.  Gitty  was  leaning  on  the  ridiculous  little 
box,  talking  to  the  player  while  the  company  as 
sembled,  on  the  following  evening,  when  she  saw 
her  companion  start  violently  and  change  color. 
"  What 's  the  matter  ?  "  she  queried. 

"  Oh,  nothing." 

"  Why,  yes,  there  is.  You  're  as  red  as  a  piney." 
Gitty  glanced  over  her  shoulder.  Demosthenes 
was  entering  the  room.  "  Oh,  ho,"  she  cried  af 
fectedly.  "  So  that 's  how  it  is  !  I  was  asked  not 
twenty-four  hours  ago  if  you  were  going  to  be 
married." 

Phe's  hands  fell  on  the  keys  with  a  crash. 
"  Gitty  Hager,"  said  she,  "  if  you  have  any  pity  in 
you,  you  '11  help  me  to  get  rid  of  that  man." 

"  Whatever  do  you  mean  ?  " 


268  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

"  I  mean  I  am  desperate.  He  won't  take  '  No  ' 
for  an  answer.  He  is  incapable  of  it.  He  's  so 
consumed  with  self-love  that  he  can't  see  any  one 
else  doesn't  love  him  just  as  much.  It  isn't  that 
he  won't  see  it,  but  he  can't.  And  I  have  to  treat 
him  decently  because  he 's  a  boarder.  I  cannot 
fret  mother,  and  I  hardly  ever  see  Jemima  since 
Mrs.  Sweet  has  been  sick.  I  'm  at  my  wit's  end, 
Gitty." 

Her  voice  shook.  It  could  not  have  continued 
to  speak  longer.  "  Why,  now,"  urged  her  practical 
confidante,  "can't  you  use  Mr.  Rockwell  to  dis 
courage 'him?" 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  lead  him  on  either.  They  're 
all  boarders.  You  don't  understand  how  hard  it 
is.  We  need  the  board." 

Gitty  had  never  before  heard  her  speak  with 
such  freedom.  She  gazed  down  into  the  lovely 
eyes,  her  heart  torn  between  sympathy  and  envy. 

"  Well,  you  are  too  pretty,  that 's  a  fact,"  she 
said. 

"  Don't  laugh  at  me." 

This  was  as  the  teacher  called  them  all  to  order. 

Almiran  edged  his  way  down  the  bench  toward 
Gitty  as  the  evening  wore  along.  She  detected  the 
movement,  of  course,  with  all  that  it  implied.  And 
here  was  the  moment  for  carrying  out  that  resolu 
tion  which  had  formed  itself  while  she  sang  at 
random  with  the  others,  and  her  eyes  studied  Phe 
Colton's  face.  At  length  they  were  dismissed  and 
Almiran  drew  near. 

"  May  I  wait  on  you  home  ?  "  said  he. 


ON  THE  WAY  HOME  269 

He  deemed  it  the  merest  form,  but  Gitty  shook 
her  head.  "  You  take  Phe  Colton." 

"  What  for  ?  " 

The  blank  expression,  the  reluctant  tone,  set  her 
pulses  to  faster  beating.  After  all,  it  was  not  so 
hard  to  be  generous.  "  Because  she  is  alone,"  she 
urged. 

"  So  are  you." 

"  Oh,  Almiran  !  I  can  go  with  Henry  Fisher  — 
unless  he  wants  to  take  Jemima,"  she  was  human 
enough  to  add. 

Almiran  chuckled.  "  More  likely,  for  the  matter 
of  that,  Jemimy  would  see  him  home.  But  Mossy 
Mix  is  waiting  for  Phe." 

"  That 's  the  very  reason.  She  does  n't  want  to 
be  beholden  to  Mossy  Mix." 

"  Oh,  I  see,"  said  Almiran  good-naturedly. 
"  Well,  you  wait  here,  and  I  '11  ask  Henry  and  Je 
mimy"  (Jemima  was  acting  as  nurse  for  Mrs. 
Sweet)  "  to  take  Phe  along  with  them.  They  '11  be 
glad  and  proud  to  do  it." 

This  was  accomplished  while  the  object  of  their 
stratagem  lingered  by  the  melodeon  hoping  to  tire 
out  her  would-be  escort  in  the  entry.  And  Almi 
ran,  tucking  Gitty's  hand  under  his  sleeve,  set  out 
upon  their  long  trudge  through  the  snow.  The 
recent  dialogue  had  left  him  curious. 

"  I  never  thought,"  he  observed  presently,  "  you 
were  so  interested  in  Phe  Colton's  affairs.  She 
been  complainin'  to  you  about  Mossy  ?  " 

"  I  should  n't  repeat  it  if  she  had.  And  it  wan't 
that  —  altogether  —  made  me  ask  you  to  take  her 
home." 


270  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

"What  was  it,  then?" 

No  answer. 

"  What  was  it,  then  ?  " 

"  I  supposed  you  'd  rather." 

"  Did  n't  you  think  I  knew  my  own  mind?  " 

Gitty's  hand  trembled  on  his  arm.  "  No,"  she 
answered. 

Almiran  stood  still  in  the  path.  "  What  makes 
you  say  that,  Gitty  Hager  ?  " 

"  Because  it 's  true."  She  faced  him  defiantly. 
"  You  're  just  fascinated  with  Phe.  You  have  been 
from  the  start.  And  to-night  I  made  up  my  mind 
I  'd  say  to  you,  '  You  go  with  her  and  welcome.'  " 

"Are  you  mad  at  me?"  demanded  Almiran  in 
consternation. 

"  Why,  no.  Don't  you  see  I  'm  not  ?  Almiran, 
it 's  like  this  :  what  you  did  for  me,  a  year  ago  — 
because  I  asked  you,  I  should  say,  and  you  could  n't 
refuse  —  I  can't  ever  forget  it.  Nor  yet  all  you 
suffered  afterwards.  One  good  turn  deserves  an 
other.  I  always  thought  honestly  Phe  did  n't  care 
for  you.  To-night  something  made  me  see  maybe 
you  would  n't  have  such  hard  work  if  you  wanted 
to  wait  on  her.  After  all  I  owed  you,  't  was  the 
least  I  could  do  to  tell  you  so.  And  now  you  know 
how  it  is." 

Almiran  began  to  laugh.  "  I  ain't  a  fool,"  said 
he.  "  You  mean,  of  the  two,  if  't  was  to  save  her 
self  from  Mossy  Mix,  Phe  Colton  would  take  me. 
But,"  in  a  graver  tone,  "  I  don't  want  to  keep  com 
pany  with  her,  Gitty.  I  want  to  keep  company 
with  you." 


ON  THE  WAY  HOME  271 

"  Oh,  Almiran  Sweet !  " 

"  I  do  so.  You  see  —  it 's  this  way.  "  He  put 
his  hand  underneath  her  chin  and  peered  into  the 
depths  of  her  hood.  "  I  did  like  Phe.  I  like  her 
now  —  some.  For  all  that,  what  I  done  for  you  — 
what  you  make  so  much  of  —  don't  you  see,  it  just 
made  me  love  you,  Gitty.  I  could  n't  look  at  an 
other  girl  after  that." 

"  You  've  hid  it  pretty  well,"  pouted  the  blissful 
creature,  bridling  and  smiling.  "  How  was  I  to 
suspect  ?  You  have  n't  been  to  see  me,  nor  taken 
scarcely  any  notice." 

"  That  was  the  very  reason.  I  felt,"  he  stam 
mered  for  lack  of  a  word,  "  kind  of  —  delicate 
about  it.  It  seemed  as  if  you  'd  think  I  'd  bought 
the  right.  Don't  you  understand  ?  " 

"  I  understand  one  thing,"  she  cried,  clasping 
her  mittens  together  fervently,  "  that  I  'm  the 
happiest  girl  in  this  world,  if  you  say  it  of  your 
own  accord,  and  not  "  — 

"  And  not  what  ?  " 

"  And  not  because  you  saw  all  the  time  how 
much  I  thought  of  you." 

"  Why,  I  think  just  as  much  of  you,"  Almiran 
expostulated.  After  a  second's  consideration,  he 
added,  "  And  I  really  don't  know  but  more." 


CHAPTER  XXVHI 

AT   THE   WINDOW 

"  They  have  most  power  to  hurt  us  that  we  love. 
We  lay  our  sleeping  lives  within  their  arms." 

MATT  was  pleased,  with  no  tinge  of  envy,  at 
Gitty's  embarrassed  announcement  of  her  engage 
ment.  It  was  much  to  him  that  his  sister  should 
go  without  sense  of  shame  to  another  home  to  which 
she  carried  no  disgrace,  since  it  lay  under  the  like 
ban. 

"  I  '11  give  you  the  farm  for  a  wedding  present, 
Gitty,"  said  he  one  day. 

Matt  might  sigh  and  tell  Demosthenes  Mix  that 
no  man  need  covet  his  wealth.  Yet  it  is  easier  to 
depreciate  what  we  have  than  what  we  lack,  and, 
with  all  the  money  failed  to  bring,  there  were  al 
leviations  in  such  possibilities  as  this  offer  pre 
sented. 

His  sister  dropped  her  knitting-work,  aghast. 
"  What  farm  ?  " 

"  Why,  this.     The  Hager  farm." 

"Oh,  Matt!  Father  wouldn't  like  it."  She 
stopped  abruptly.  The  bright  color  faded  from 
her  cheeks.  "  I  forgot,"  she  stammered.  "  It 's 
hard  to  realize." 

"  Yes,"  the  young  man  continued  steadily,  "  it 's 


AT  THE   WINDOW  273 

hard  to  realize,  and  yet  one  must,  that  father  has 
nothing  more  to  say  about  us,  nor  about  the  place. 
I  shall  make  it  over  to  you,  Gitty." 

For  Stephen  Van  Rensselaer,  and  other  land 
lords  following  his  precedent,  had,  soon  after  the 
tragedy  of  Hager's  sale,  given  up  the  fight,  in  so 
far  as  offers  highly  advantageous  to  the  tenants 
were  thereupon  made  toward  their  purchase  of 
the  land  they  occupied.  Renters  and  Anti-renters 
alike  were  appalled  by  the  result  of  their  long 
dispute.  Open  insurrection  was  at  an  end,  al 
though  the  underlying  bitterness  was  there,  as  the 
recent  election  had  shown.  The  generous  propo 
sals  were  generally  accepted,  and  under  them 
Mathice  purchased  both  the  Mayham  place  and 
the  Hager  farm. 

"  It 's  very  good  of  you,"  said  Gitty  with  the 
effort  she  always  felt  in  giving  open  praise. 
"  You  've  been  free-handed  with  mother  and  me, 
Matt.  We  appreciate  it." 

"  There  's  nothing  very  fine  in  turning  over  to 
you  what  I  don't  want  myself.  When  are  you 
going  to  be  married  ?  " 

"  That 's  it,"  said  she.  "  I  don't  know  when  we 
can,  I  'm  sure." 

Matt  broke  into  a  boyish  laugh.  "  Well,  I  de 
clare,"  he  remarked,  "  you  don't  act  as  if  you 
cared  much." 

His  sister  smiled  with  a  very  sweet  and  womanly 
blush.  "  I  don't,"  she  confessed.  "  Honestly, 
Matt,  I'm  just  as  happy  as  I  can  be.  Nothing 
worries  me  any  more." 


274  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

Matt  drew  a  deep  breath.  "  You  'd  better  thank 
God,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Why,  I  do,  every  night !  But,"  in  a  brisker 
tone  as  she  returned  to  a  more  common  phase  of 
thought,  "  there  's  no  chance  of  our  marrying  yet 
a  while.  Of  course  mother  could  n't  be  left  alone. 
You  can't  come  to  live  with  her,  nor  yet  she  won't 
go  to  live  with  you.  Oh,  I  've  thought  it  all  out ! 
And  Almiran's  mother  is  just  exactly  as  depend 
ent.  He  's  all  she  has,  you  might  say,  with  no 
brother  and  sister.  And  since  she  's  got  so  help 
less  with  her  rheumatism  " 

"  It  would  be  impossible  for  Almiran  to  leave 
home.  I  see  that,  and  yet  there  ought  to  be  some 
way  for  you  to  go  there."  Matt  scowled  reflec 
tively.  Gitty  went  on  placidly  with  her  knitting. 

"  It 's  real  good  of  you  to  take  such  an  interest," 
she  observed. 

"  I  want  you  should  be  happy,"  he  answered. 

The  unconscious  emphasis  upon  his  second  pro 
noun  recalled  to  his  sister's  memory  Matt's  own 
love  affairs  as  she  had  suspected  them.  Selfish  by 
nature,  her  happiness  brought  with  it  sympathy, 
and  she  felt  tender  of  this  good  brother.  "Oh, 
by  the  way,"  she  observed  casually,  "  you  remem 
ber  what  you  asked  me,  a  while  ago,  about  Mossy 
Mix  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  there  's  not  a  word  of  truth  in  it." 

"  Why,  he  told  me  so  himself." 

"  Oh,  Mossy  Mix  !  What  does  his  talking 
amount  to?  She  told  me  how  it  was,  herself, 


AT  THE  WINDOW  275 

when  you  come  to  that.  She  says  he  's  driving  her 
out  of  her  senses  taking  for  granted  what  is  n't 
so." 

Matt  laughed  again,  this  time  with  so  changed 
an  expression  that  his  sister  exclaimed,  "  I  declare 
you  're  getting  real  good-looking  !  " 

"  For  mercy's  sake,"  he  answered  shortly,  "  don't 
let 's  discuss  my  beauty.  Did  she  tell  you  in  so 
many  words  she  was  n't  going  to  marry  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  did.     So  there !  " 

Matt  sat  staring  at  the  floor.  "And  she  just 
can't  endure  Mr.  Rockwell,"  Gitty  added  comfort 
ingly. 

The  bright  look  faded  from  his  face.  "The 
trouble  is,"  Matt  observed  dryly,  as  he  rose,  "  that 
she  can't  endure  me  either." 

"  I  don't  see  whatever  made  me  say  he  was 
handsome,"  thought  Gitty,  watching  him.  Aloud 
she  added,  "  Yes,  she  can  too.  You  always  got 
along  together.  What 's  the  matter  now  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  kicking  one  foot  against  the 
andiron.  "Everything,  I  guess.  She  treats  me 
as  if  I  was  a  dog." 

Gitty  shook  her  head,  completely  mystified.  "  I 
can't  understand  it.  What  have  you  done  ?  " 

"  I  have  n't  done  a  thing.  It  is  n't  that.  It 's 
what  I  am."  He  was  glowering  into  the  fire.  Sud 
denly  he  raised  one  fist  and  brought  it  down  upon 
his  thigh.  "  Look  at  me,  a  rank  Downrenter, 
living  at  my  ease  on  the  Squire's  money,  and  my 
old  father  in  prison  for  life.  No  wonder  she  can't 
bear  the  sight  of  me." 


276  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

Gitty  uttered  a  little  shriek.  "  Don't  say  such 
horrible  things,  Matt.  It  is  n't  —  decent." 

He  raised  his  gloomy  face,  but  quickly  looked 
down  again.  "  That 's  so.  And  yet  the  thing  is 
true.  Well,  let 's  talk  of  something  else." 

"  I  can't  —  not  yet.  Matt,  I  had  no  idea  you 
were  feeling  this  thing  in  that  kind  of  a  way." 

"  Probably  not.  Thank  the  Lord  for  that,  too. 
It  is  the  way  I  look  at  it,  and  the  way  she  does 
apparently  ;  I  am  the  one  Downrenter  who  skulked 
out  of  his  punishment  when  it  fell  on  everybody 
else.  And  my  father  —  No,  I  tell  you  I  won't 
discuss  it  any  longer.  See  here,  Gitty!  Why 
shouldn't  Jemima  Lane  come  and  live  with 
mother  ?  " 

"When?" 

Gitty's  slow  brain  was  not  accustomed  to  these 
rapid  turns. 

"  When  you  're  married.  You  'd  more  than  take 
her  place  at  the  Sweets'." 

"  Why,  that 's  a  beautiful  plan !  "  she  cried. 
"  You  are  bright,  Matt.  Whatever  made  you 
think  of  it?" 

She  was  thoroughly  diverted.  Her  brother 
smiled  sadly.  But  he  liked  the  praise.  "  I  have 
to  think  nowadays,"  he  answered.  "  The  Squire's 
affairs  call  for  all  you  '11  give  them.  Well  ?  Then 
you  agree  to  it  ?  " 

"  Indeed  and  indeed  I  do.  If  mother  is  willing, 
and  —  and  the  others." 

"  All  right.    I  guess  I  '11  be  getting  home." 

Gitty  betrayed  immediately  the  impatience  of  a 


AT  THE  WINDOW  277 

woman.  "  Why  not  drive  around  by  his  house  and 
talk  it  over  with  Jemima  ?  " 

"Now?     To-night?" 

"  There  's  no  time  like  the  present.  I  'd  like 
to  see  whether  she  thinks  it  can  be  done." 

"  All  right,"  Matt  replied  carelessly.     "  I  '11  go." 

"  I  guess  she  'd  rather,"  said  Gitty,  rolling  up 
her  knitting,  "  as  long  as  Henry  Fisher  's  here." 

"Yes,  that  was  one  thing  I  thought  of." 

If  Matt  hoped  for  another  compliment  on  his 
powers  of  reflection  he  was  disappointed.  This 
came,  however,  from  no  lack  of  appreciation. 
"  While  you  're  about  it,"  Gitty  suggested,  follow 
ing  him  to  the  threshold,  "  I  wish  you  'd  tell 
Jemima  what  you  did  me,  about  Phe." 

"  Good  heavens,  no !  "  exclaimed  the  young  man. 

"  Matt  Hager,  listen  to  me.  You  just  tell  her. 
She  knows  Phe  Colton  through  and  through. 
Maybe  she  can  explain  Phe's  acting  so.  It  means 
something." 

"  I  told  you  what  it  means." 

"  That 's  all  stuff.  You  've  got  nervous  living 
out  there  by  yourself,  or  you  'd  never  imagine  such 
horrors.  Mark  my  words,  there  's  something  be 
hind  it.  You  tell  Jemima." 

Matt  tossed  his  head  as  if  this  advice  were  too 
foolish  for  so  much  as  a  refusal.  Still,  Gitty  re 
turned  to  her  work  well  pleased  with  his  prospects 
no  less  than  her  own.  "  He  '11  tell  Jemima,"  she 
said  to  herself. 

And  after  the  short  business  conference,  while 
Jemima  mixed  her  bread  and  Matt  stood  by  in  the 


278  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

buttery,  he  broached  the  matter  precisely  as  his 
sister  had  foreseen.  He  obtained  Jemima's  good 
will  for  his  scheme  and  her  promise  of  cooperation. 
Then,  drumming  on  the  edge  of  the  shelf  beside 
him,  he  went  on,  — 

"  So  Mrs.  Colton  's  got  a  houseful  this  winter  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Every  one  of  'em  after  the  daughter,  I  hear." 

"Yes." 

Matt  drummed  very  fast.  "  Which  one  will  get 
her?" 

"  Not  any  of  'em,"  replied  Jemima  promptly. 
"  She  sees  too  much  of  'em." 

She  eyed  the  broad  shoulders  and  the  averted 
head  reflectively.  "  I  s'pose  I  got  to  help  him 
out,"  she  thought  before  she  said  aloud,  "  You  go 
there  often  ?  " 

Matt  shook  his  head.     "  Once  was  enough." 

"  How  's  that?      I  don't  understand  ye." 

"  I  guess  you  'd  understand  if  you  saw  how  she 
treated  me."  Matt  spoke  with  scorn.  "  Not  that 
I  'm  complaining,  nor  yet  that  I  don't  stand  by  my 
father.  I  'd  do  that  in  the  face  of  a  thousand 
girls,  even  a  thousand  girls  like  her.  For  all,  I 
shan't  put  myself  in  the  way  of  seeing  how  she 
looks  down  on  me." 

Jemima  leaned  her  weight  on  the  arms  manipu 
lating  the  dough.  Her  eyes  read  his  features 
attentively,  yet  with  a  far-away  gaze.  "  When  was 
this  ?  Lately  ?  " 

"  No.    A  year  ago.    I  went  there  to  pay  a  bill." 

"Since  the  Squire  passed  away?" 


AT  THE  WINDOW  279 

"  Why,  yes,"  astonished  at  the  question.  "  The 
bill  was  for  the  doctor's  attendance." 

Jemima's  cheeks  showed  a  dull  brick-red  at  her 
next  query.  She  was  divided  between  pity  for 
Matt  and  a  resentful  pride  for  Henry  Fisher. 
"  Did  she  always  behave  like  that,  —  as  if  she 
despised  ye  for  your  poor  father's  foolish  ac 
tions  ?  " 

"  No,"  Matt  replied.  "  The  very  night  before 
Dr.  Colton  died  I  was  there.  And  she  was  just  as 
good  to  me!  It  was  only  after  I  came  into  my 
money  she  showed  out  what  she  thought  of  an 
Anti-renter  that  went  scot-free  and  had  a  father 
in  prison." 

Jemima  resumed  her  kneading.  "  That 's  all  I 
want  to  know." 

"What  is  all  you  want  to  know?"  demanded 
Matt  peremptorily. 

"  Wait  a  minute.  All  in  good  time.  You  going 
to  the  donation  party  a- Wednesday  ?  " 

He  made  an  impatient  gesture  of  dissent. 

"  Why  not  ?    Ev'rybuddy  's  goin'." 

"  I  'm  not.  And  you  understand  my  reasons 
well  enough." 

"  I  understand  well  enough  what  folks  say,  — 
you  're  purse-proud." 

"I'm  what?" 

"  Stuck  up.  You  keep  yourself  to  yourself  since 
ye  come  into  Squire  Mayham's  prop'ty." 

Matt  gasped  his  amazement.  "  Well,  I  never !  " 
he  ejaculated.  "  Is  that  the  talk  ?  " 

Jemima   nodded.     "Don't  ye  s'pose,   when  ye 


280  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

went  to  pay  that  bill,  likely  Phoebe  thought  so, 
too?" 

"  She  could  n't.    How  could  she  ?  " 

"Well,  I  do'  know.  Did  ye  give  the  money  to 
her?" 

"Yes." 

"  Counted  it  out  in  her  hand  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  in  a  fainter  tone,  "  I  did." 

Jemima  hit  the  bread  dough  hard.  "  Well,  of 
all  poor  fools,"  said  she,  "  give  me  a  man  in  love. 
And  he  wants  to  know  what  makes  her  act  so 
stiff!" 

"  Oh,  come,  Jemima  " —  the  young  man  began. 

"  You  hearken  to  me.  Go  to  that  donation 
party  a- Wednesday.  Go  right  up  to  Phe.  You 
be  humble  with  her.  You  be  meek.  But  you  stick 
clos't  to  her.  And  don't  ye  take  '  No '  for  an 
answer." 

"  Like  Mossy  Mix,"  Matt  interrupted  gleefully. 
His  face  was  radiant. 

"  Yes.  Ye  might  well  take  a  leaf  out  o'  Mossy's 
book.  But  yet,"  alarmed  by  the  effect  of  her  ad 
vice,  "  for  the  land's  sake  be  careful.  Don't  ye  be 
too  sure.  And  don't  let  her  suspect  you're  sure 
at  all." 

"  Oh,  Jemima,"  Matt  cried,  "  how  can  I  ever 
repay  you  ?  " 

"  Go  along !  Repay,  indeed !  I  guess  that 's 
what  women  's  put  into  this  world  for,  —  to  git 
men  into  scrapes,  or  to  git  'em  out  ag'in.  Ye  go 
along  home  now,  and  think  over  what  I  say." 

Matt  thought  to  such  purpose  that,  on  the  night 


AT  THE   WINDOW  281 

in  question,  he  appeared  at  his  mother's  house  and 
declared  his  intention  of  accompanying  Gitty  and 
Almiran  to  the  dominie's. 

"  I  'in  real  glad,"  said  his  sister.  Even  Maria 
Hager  looked  pleased. 

Matt  ran  back  and  forth  between  the  great 
scooplike  sleigh  at  the  gate  and  the  kitchen, 
whence  he  carried  Gitty's  contribution  and  the  jar 
of  butter  his  mother  added.  He  seemed  so  young 
and  so  gay  that  the  woman,  stricken  with  sorrow, 
smiled  at  his  bustling  high  spirits.  "  It 's  good  to 
see  him  like  that  again,"  she  concluded,  "  and  it 's 
natural.  I  guess  he  has  forgotten." 

Gitty  came  to  her  chair  at  the  fireside  to  kiss 
her  good-by.  The  caress  was  an  innovation,  nor 
could  the  girl  imagine  how  the  older  woman 
writhed  beneath  it,  discerning  the  commiseration 
under  the  tenderness.  It  was  hard  to  endure  her 
daughter's  expression  of  happiness,  however  truly 
she  rejoiced  over  the  happiness  itself.  She  drew 
a  sigh  of  relief  when  the  three  young  people  with 
their  silly  clamor  had  finally  left  her  alone. 

"  It 's  best  I  should  be  by  myself,"  she  said  to 
the  fire,  "  as  long  as  I  can't  have  father." 

A  log  broke  and  sputtered.  She  readjusted  its 
ends  with  the  tongs.  "  The  children  are  young. 
They  forget.  And  that 's  right.  But  I  'm  old 
and  I  can't  forget.  It 's  best  I  should  be  alone. 

"  Father  liked  a  beech  wood  fire,"  presently  she 
continued  aloud.  "  I  wish  —  O  my  God,  O  my 
God,"  wringing  her  hands  together,  "  not  ever 
again  in  this  world  !  And  for  all  that,  he  's  alive !  " 


282  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

There  came  a  slight  noise  outside  that  made  her 
start.  "  Yes,  I  'm  better  off  by  myself.  What 
would  the  children  think  if  they  saw  me  ?  " 

The  noise  grew  more  distinct.  It  was  the 
crunch  of  a  footfall  upon  the  frozen  snow.  Maria's 
frightened  eyes  sought  the  window.  There  was 
neither  shade  nor  curtain.  The  black  panes  re 
flected  a  starless  night  without. 

"  It  sounded  like  "  — 

A  shriek  tore  from  her  parted  lips.  Her  white, 
strained"  features  glared  at  the  narrow  window. 
Her  body  bent  forward  in  an  attitude  of  rapt  won 
der.  For  there,  looking  in  at  her  and  the  fire 
light,  the  comfort  and  the  warmth,  stood  a  man, 
and  one  she  knew.  It  was  Jacob  Hager. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THE   DONATION   PARTY 

Money  never  made  any  man  rich.  —  SENECA. 

BEFORE  Maria  Hager  could  shake  off  the  pa 
ralysis  of  supreme  terror  the  face  at  the  window 
disappeared.  The  door  opened  gently.  Her  hus 
band  stood  on  the  sill.  He  regarded  her  with  a 
silly  smile. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  here  I  be." 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  she  leaped  forward. 
Seizing  him  by  the  coat  she  pulled  him  into  the 
room.  "  Shut  the  door,"  she  panted.  "  Hide  ! 
You  must  hide,  father,  right  away." 

He  looked  at  her  appealingly,  like  a  child. 
"  What  I  got  'o  hide  for  ?  " 

"  Why,  so  they  can't  find  you."  She  was  gazing 
about  her  distractedly.  "  The  cellarway  would  be 
a  good  place." 

"  So  who  can't  find  me,  mother  ?  " 

"  The  officers ;  the  folks  that  are  hunting  for 
you,  to  take  you  back." 

"  What  they  want  'o  take  me  back  for,  mother  ? 
I  been  let  out." 

Her  mouth  fell  agape.  "  Say  that  again.  Let 
out  from  where  ?  " 


284  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

"  From  —  that  place.  You  know.  The  governor 
let  us  out." 

"  Jacob  Hager,"  shrieked  his  wife,  "  is  that 
true?" 

"  Honest  it  is.  The  new  governor  let  us  all 
out.  They  was  eleven  of  us.  Don't  you  believe 
me,  mother  ?  " 

He  put  out  one  hand  timidly  and  took  a  fold  of 
her  gown  between  his  fingers.  It  was  the  nearest 
approach  to  a  caress  that  she  could  remember  in 
the  years  she  had  been  his  wife. 

"  I  can't  seem  to  sense  it,"  she  answered  wildly. 
"  Where  are  the  rest  ?  " 

The  question  sounded  brutally  dubious,  like  the 
cross-examination  of  a  witness. 

"  They  're  comin'  along  to-morrow,  all  together. 
They  thought  they  'd  make  a  time.  I  told  'em  I 
was  too  old  for  sech  doin's.  I  guessed  I  'd  jes' 
slip  into  town  by  myself,  an'  nobuddy  the  wiser. 
I'druther." 

Hysteric  sobs  shook  Maria's  frail  body.  Jacob 
watched  her,  trembling.  "  That 's  the  way  I  feel, 
too,"  he  whispered. 

For  it  was  a  new  man  who  had  come  back  to 
her  as  if  from  the  dead.  If,  indeed,  one  could  be 
"  born  again  when  he  is  old,"  such  a  fate  was 
Jacob  Hager's.  The  iron  will  had  been  broken, 
the  conceit  crushed  under  the  merciless  hand  of 
the  law. 

No  rumor  arrived  at  Farley  that  night  concern 
ing  this  action  of  Governor  Young.  No  one  had 
heard  of  the  general  pardon  extended,  as  soon  as 


THE   DONATION   PARTY  285 

he  took  his  oath  of  office,  to  those  punished  for 
Tobias  Snyder's  death.  Mercy  was  shown  on  the 
plea  that,  the  insurrection  being  subdued,  there  was 
no  sufficient  object  to  be  attained  by  their  further 
imprisonment.  But,  as  Maria  had  told  herself, 
memories  are  short  and  facts  soon  grow  endurably 
familiar.  To  her  children  and  to  the  other  guests 
at  the  donation  party  there  came,  with  the  evening, 
a  common  resolution  to  be  merry  and  to  forget. 

The  house  buzzed  from  the  noise  of  high-pitched 
conversation  and  the  romping  fun  of  children. 
Matt  discovered  his  sister  to  be  only  too  willing  to 
leave  him  to  his  own  devices,  while  she  slipped  be 
side  Almiran  into  a  seat  on  the  staircase.  He  had 
his  set  purpose  and  went  about  it  after  a  dogged 
fashion,  "  all  Hager,"  Gitty  thought,  amusedly 
watching  his  movements. 

He  proceeded  from  room  to  room  on  a  deter 
mined  quest,  even  invading  the  kitchen  where  the 
older  women  were  preparing  supper.  At  sight  of 
him  Jemima  Lane  dropped  the  knife  which  divided 
an  election  cake  into  generous  triangles.  "  Settin'- 
room,"  she  formed  her  lips  to  hint. 

He  nodded  and  disappeared  in  the  direction  in 
dicated.  Jemima's  eyes  followed  him  with  the 
tenderness  a  woman  has  for  a  man's  simplicity. 

"  Poor  dear  cre'tur' !  "  she  mused,  resuming  her 
work.  "  He  's  went  an'  put  the  ol'  Squire's  di'- 
mon'  pin  in  his  neckcloth,  an'  he 's  got  on  his 
flowered  wes'cut.  Of  all  ways  to  make  her  for 
get  his  money,  to  dress  himself  up  to  kill !  My, 
my,  how  foolish  a  body  in  love  can  act !  " 


286  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

She  was  to  see  this  truth  set  forth  again  within 
the  next  half  hour.  Shrill  cries  from  the  hall 
broke  in  upon  her  reverie,  and  a  fellow  worker 
exclaimed  impatiently,  "  Well,  it  does  seem  as  if 
the  young  folks  might  keep  out  of  here.  They  've 
got  all  the  rest  of  the  house  to  train  in." 

Jemima  looked  up.  A  troop  of  blushing  girls 
and  bashful  youths  swept  into  the  room.  They 
bore  in  their  hands  a  long  rope  tied  together  at 
the  ends. 

"  We  're  going  to  make  a  Copenhagen  ring," 
some  one  announced. 

Jemima  cut  another  section  of  cake.  "  I  think 
Henery  Fisher  might  be  in  better  business,"  was 
her  mental  criticism.  She  had  spied  Henry  among 
the  players. 

The  swaying  circle  moved  here  and  there  in 
the  open  space  they  found.  In  the  struggles  of 
feminine  coquetry  and  masculine  persistence  they 
pushed  back  and  back  unconsciously  until  they 
pressed  against  the  women  at  the  table. 

"  Now  you  childern  git  out  o'  here,"  Jemima 
scolded.  "You  're  in  the  way.  Ye  bother.  An' 
we  ain't  no  time  for  nonsense." 

She  extended  one  hand  as  she  spoke,  to  empha 
size  her  words  by  a  push  at  the  nearest  intruder. 
Her  fingers  touched  the  jerking  rope  taut  between 
a  ring  of  holders.  Instantly  Henry  Fisher,  from 
the  middle  of  the  circle,  had  darted  forward.  He 
dealt  a  smart  slap  upon  her  knuckles. 

Jemima  stood  rigid  with  astonishment.  She 
actually  supposed  this  was  his  response  to  her  in- 


THE   DONATION   PARTY  287 

terference.  In  another  second,  and  before  she  had 
stirred  or  spoken,  he  flung  both  arms  about  her. 
He  kissed  her  a  resounding  smack  upon  the  cheek. 

"  Why,  you  impident  scamp  !  "  cried  Jemima. 

Rapturous  shouts  arose  from  all  parts  of  the 
room,  from  workers  and  frolickers  alike.  "  Now 
you  're  in  the  ring,  Jemimy,"  Mary  Ann  Mix 
explained  with  a  giggle. 

"No,  I  ain't,"  said  Jemima.  Her  face  had 
grown  very  pale. 

Henry  stooped  and  slid  under  the  rope,  his  gaze 
fixed  apprehensively  on  her.  As  she  moved  away 
to  the  table  he  followed. 

"  You  mad  at  me  ?  "  he  whispered. 

"  Git  along.     Ye  jog  my  elbow." 

"  Jemimy,  ye  ain't  mad,  be  ye  ?" 

"  I  tell  ye  ye're  joggin'  my  elbow.  I  can't  do  a 
thing  if  ye  git  in  the  way  like  that." 

"  Then  don't  do  nothin'."  The  soft  voice  took 
on  a  new  tone,  one  to  which  no  woman  ever  lis 
tened  unmoved,  for  it  spoke  with  authority.  "  Put 
down  that  knife.  I  want  ye  should  listen  to  me, 
Jemimy." 

"How  can  I  listen,"  she  snapped  —  but  she 
laid  the  knife  on  its  plate  —  "  with  all  this  noise 
goin'  on  ?  " 

"  You  can  hear  well  enough,"  said  Henry 
calmly.  It  was  the  quiet  of  desperation,  although 
that  she  did  not  suspect.  "  What  I  want  to  know 
is,  be  ye  mad  at  me  for  what  I  done  ?  " 

The  busy  fingers  played  with  her  apron  hem. 
Jemima  Lane  was  coy. 


288  A   DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

"You  tell  me  this  minute,"  Henry  continued. 
"  I  want  to  know.  If  ye  be,  I  'm  goin'  out  that 
door  there  an'  right  straight  home.  I  won't  even 
stay  for  supper." 

Jemima  gave  her  head  a  sly  toss.  "  Ye  neenter 
feel  as  bad  as  all  that." 

"  Well,  I  do.  I  would  n't  hurt  your  feelin's, 
not  for  five  dollars  I  would  n't." 

Jemima  sobered  a  trifle.  The  conversation  be 
gan  to  savor  of  their  old  relations,  —  respect  on 
his  side,  condescension  upon  hers. 

"That's  all  right,"  said  she  with  a  gesture  as  if 
to  leave  him.  "  I  guess  we  won't  say  any  more 
about  it.  You  was  thoughtless,  and  didn't  con 
sider  what  ye  done." 

"  Yes,  I  did  too,"  Henry  argued  bluntly.  "  I  did 
consider  what  I  done.  That  was  why  I  done  it." 

"  Why,  whatever  ails  you,  Henery  Fisher,  to 
talk  like  that  ?  " 

"  I  mean,"  Henry  went  on  in  a  shaken  murmur, 
"  I  acted  with  my  eyes  wide  open,  as  ye  might  say. 
I  always  wanted  to  kiss  ye,  Jemimy  Lane.  There, 
now,  ye  know  the  worst." 

To  his  dismay,  although  scarcely  surprising  to 
his  sense  of  guilt,  the  face  he  was  scanning  quiv 
ered.  The  sharp  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  Jemimy,"  he  faltered,  "  ain't  it  best  to  be  hon 
est  ?  Ye  see  egzacly  how  I  feel.  Won't  ye  never 
forgive  me  the  longest  day  ye  live  ?  " 

"  It  ain't  that." 

"  What  is  it,  then  ?  What  makes  ye  feel  so 
bad?" 


THE   DONATION   PARTY  289 

"  It  's  because  —  Oh,  Henery  Fisher,  stop 
starin'  at  me  so.  It 's  because  I  like  you  too." 

Henry's  gloom  disappeared  on  the  instant,  and 
he  became  strangely  bold.  Laying  his  hand  on 
hers,  "  If  that 's  true,"  said  he  earnestly,  "  I  don't 
wonder  ye  should  cry.  Sech  a  woman  as  you  be 
to  take  up  with  a  poor  stick  like  me  !  I  '11  do  my 
very  best,  though,  Jemimy." 

"  Well,  first  off,"  she  commanded,  "  stop  your 
talkin'  so  silly.  I  guess  I  know  Henery  Fisher  by 
this  time,  and  I  know  Jemimy  Lane.  All  is,  I  'm 
satisfied." 

"  The  Lord  sees  that  I  am,"  was  his  fervent 
response. 

"  For  all  that,  you  go  right  off.    Folks  '11  notice." 

"  No,  they  won't.  Not  a  soul 's  lookin'.  They 
got  too  much  else  on  hand." 

"  I  tell  you  to  go  away." 

"  All  right,"  said  Henry  serenely.  Thereupon, 
from  the  heights  of  his  happiness,  he  perpetrated 
the  first  and  last  joke  of  his  life.  "  May  I  have 
the  pleasure  o'  waitin'  on  ye  home,  Miss  Lane  ?  " 
he  inquired  with  a  bow  of  humorous  depth. 

Jemima  was  as  far  beside  herself.  She  dropped 
him  an  angular  curtsy.  "  Yes,  and  thank  ye  kindly, 
Mr.  Fisher,"  she  replied. 

With  this  walk  before  them  in  anticipation  they 
could  afford  after  that  to  gaze  from  afar  upon  each 
other  throughout  the  evening.  Jemima  slipped 
from  the  room  presently  to  find  Matt  Hager. 

"  I  've  kind  o'  got  them  childern  on  my  mind," 
she  told  herself. 


290  A  DOWNRENTER'S   SON 

She  had  heard  that  Phoebe  was  to  play  the  accom 
paniments  for  Allie  and  several  other  singers  in  a 
little  musical  programme.  She  went  to  the  door 
of  the  sitting-room  and  peeped  in. 

Matt  Hager,  elaborately  patient,  stood  near  her, 
leaning  against  the  wall.  Omar  Mix  was  roaring 
"  Oft  in  the  Stilly  Night,"  at  the  piano  where  Phe 
was  seated.  Matt  shook  his  head  at  sight  of 
Jemima.  He  wore  the  martyr  air  of  one  who  has 
been  duped.  "  I  have  n't  had  a  chance  to  get  a 
word  in  edgeways,"  he  informed  her. 

"  No,  o'  course  not.  Not  yet.  We  '11  have  sup 
per  in  a  minute.  They  must  be  'most  through." 

"  Caty  Acker  's  going  to  sing  next.  She  told 
me  so." 

"  Hush.  You  better  move  up  closer  to  the  in 
strument." 

"  Why  ?  "     Matt  looked  at  her  stupidly. 

Jemima  felt  as  if  she  had  the  entire  weight  of 
this  love-affair,  no  less  than  her  own,  upon  her 
shoulders.  "  Because  Mossy  Mix  is  rnakin'  that 
way,"  she  explained  in  a  vexed  undertone. 

It  was  too  late.  The  important  little  man,  who 
knew  no  hesitation,  nor  bashfulness,  who  under 
stood  what  he  desired  and  was  unconscious  of  op 
position,  could  march  coolly  between  the  rows  of 
chairs,  elbow  men  one  side,  beg  easy  pardon  of 
groups  of  women  whom  he  disturbed,  and  so,  in  the 
sight  of  all  the  world,  take  up  his  station  close  to 
Phe  Colton's  side. 

Matt  uttered  an  ugly  exclamation,  and  another 
at  the  start,  the  involuntary  glance  of  dismay, 


THE   DONATION   PARTY  291 

with  which  the  girl  greeted  Demosthenes'  ar 
rival. 

"  You  go  right  up  there,  too,"  enjoined  Jemima 
from  the  doorway. 

"  I  will,"  Matt  promised,  "  as  soon  as  the  music 
stops."  To  himself  he  added,  "  Well,  there  's 
this  about  it :  say  Jemima  is  mistaken  ;  say  she 
fairly  hates  me.  Yet  she  would  be  relieved  to 
have  anybody  save  her  from  that  man.  I  could 
see  it  in  her  face." 

So  in  the  bustle  of  a  rising  audience,  the  scrap 
ing  of  chairs  and  clapping  of  hands,  he  boldly 
pressed  forward  through  the  throng.  Phe,  spring 
ing  up  from  the  piano,  desperate  as  he  had  im 
agined,  saw  Demosthenes  approaching  her  from 
the  one  side  and  Matt  Hager,  under  whose  pre 
sence  she  had  been  nervous  throughout  the  even 
ing,  coming  as  swiftly  from  the  other. 

"  May  I  have  the  honor,"  began  the  lawyer  with 
his  ceremonious  bow,  "  of  escorting  you  to  supper, 
Phoebe?" 

This  was  to  be  expected.  "  To  wait  on  a  girl  to 
supper,"  as  "  to  wait  on  her  home  "  were  ordina 
rily  extended  marks  of  pointed  attention.  Phe 
looked  about  her  absently.  "  I  told  Allie  "  — 

She  was  fully  aware  of  her  rudeness.  She  re 
membered  he  was  her  mother's  best-paying  boarder. 
But  she  felt  that  she  did  not  care. 

Matt  Hager  advanced  at  this  juncture.  No  one 
could  tell  from  any  outward  show  how  his  heart 
was  thumping  against  his  side.  He  reached  out 
one  hand  and  took  Phe's,  drawing  it  within  his 


292  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

arm.  "  I  believe  I  am  to  have  the  pleasure,"  said 
he. 

Demosthenes  was  disconcerted.  By  the  time  he 
recovered  himself  the  pair  were  so  far  away  that, 
after  a  step  in  their  direction,  he  recognized  the 
absurdity  of  questioning  the  incident  and  decided 
to  bide  his  time.  "  The  insolence  of  wealth,"  he 
remarked  to  Omar,  who  was  standing  by.  "  Poor 
Phoebe  was  walked  off  without  any  choice  in  the 
matter.  I  hope  she  will  properly  resent  such  im 
pertinence." 

Fortunately  for  Matt,  as  Phe,  with  a  girl's  apti 
tude  for  self-torture,  was  recalling  her  old  griev 
ance  and  beginning  to  wonder  if  his  behavior 
were  not  patronizing,  he  spoke  in  the  humble  tone 
Jemima  had  recommended.  "  I  hope  you  don't 
mind,"  he  began.  "  I  thought  you  might  be  glad 
of  anybody,  just  as  a  means  of  escape." 

"  I  was,"  said  Phe. 

"  Even  me,"  the  deprecating  voice  continued. 

Before  the  girl  could  reply  to  this  unexpected 
speech  with  its  mysterious  implication,  they  were 
greeted  by  a  group  of  girls  seated  about  the  door 
way  of  the  kitchen.  "  Let  Phe  come  here  with  us, 
Matt  Hager,"  called  Josephine  Mix.  "  I  've  got 
a  chair  for  her.  You  push  right  in,  Phe,  and 
Matt,  do  get  us  something  to  eat.  We  're  'most 
starved." 

Matt  could  not  conceal  his  dismay  at  this  en 
forced  separation.  Phe,  however,  was  obediently 
ensconcing  herself  between  Gitty  and  Mary  Ann. 
He  followed  Almiran  and  Omar  in  a  raid  on  the 


THE   DONATION  PARTY  293 

tables.  "  All  right,"  he  answered  as  the  inevitable 
formula  of  acquiescence. 

"  I  declare,"  Josephine  observed,  tittering  af 
fectedly,  "  he  's  as  willing  to  fetch  and  carry  as 
if  he  wan't  the  richest  man  in  the  county.  It 's 
real  noble  of  him,  ain't  it?  " 

"  Why,  as  far  as  that  goes,"  said  Gitty  ap 
parently  to  no  one  in  particular,  "  money  has  n't 
changed  Matt,  not  a  mite.  He 's  just  the  same  as 
he  used  to  be." 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE    MAN  WITHOUT   A   COUNTRY 
"  At  dawn  the  mountain  ;  after  noon  the  fountain." 

MATT  still  watched  his  opportunities.  After  sup 
per,  as  the  girls  fluttered  to  their  feet  with  much 
readjustment  of  flowing  gowns  and  many  sidelong 
glances  toward  their  attendants,  the  young  fellow 
placed  himself  in  Phe's  path  and,  unheeding  some 
beseeching  smiles  from  her  companions,  gazed  reso 
lutely  past  them  on  to  the  one  for  whom  he  waited. 

"  We  're  all  going  to  play  '  Green  Grow  the 
Rushes,'  "  said  Polly  Vroman  archly  as  she  passed 
him.  "  You  coming,  Matt  ?  You  'd  better." 

"  I  don't  know.     I  '11  see." 

He  caught  Phe's  eye  at  last.  "  Do  you  intend 
to  play?" 

Phe  blushed  sweetly.   "  Oh,  no.   I  'd  rather  not." 

"  Come  on,  Phoebe,"  called  the  other  girls. 
"  You  've  got  to.  If  one  backs  out  all  the  rest 
will.  Come  on.  It 's  only  fun." 

She  saw  that  they  considered  her  prudish  and 
selfish  in  withholding  them  from  what  was  a  mere 
sport,  unless  any  of  their  number  stood  aloof ; 
then,  as  they  said,  all  must  do  so  perforce.  Phe 
wondered,  as  often  before,  wherein  lay  the  dif 
ference  between  herself  and  these  light-hearted, 


THE  MAN  WITHOUT  A  COUNTRY    295 

unthinking  hoydens  to  whom  a  kissing  game  was 
only  fun. 

"  Oh,  very  well,"  said  she  hurriedly,  "  I  '11  play 
for  a  little  while.  But  I  have  a  headache." 

With  this  loophole  for  escape  according  to  cir 
cumstances,  she  followed  the  other  girls,  and  Matt 
followed  her.  They  entered  the  sitting-room,  where 
the  furniture  had  been  pushed  flatly  against  the 
wall,  and  a  dancing  ring  of  mirthmakers  occupied 
the  centre  of  the  floor. 

"  Green  grow  the  rushes,  O, 
Green  grow  the  rushes,  O. 
Kiss  her  quick  and  let  her  go. 
Do  not  let  her  mother  know." 

An  untuneful  chorus  chanted  the  lines.  A 
youth  from  the  centre  of  the  circle  made  a  dash 
toward  a  girl  standing  near  the  last  arrivals. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Rockwell 's  playing,"  said  Mary  Ann 
over  her  shoulder. 

They  edged  their  way  into  places,  —  all  the 
laughing  girls  and  the  three  or  four  young  men, 
all  but  Phe  and  Mathice  Hager.  She  was  un 
noticed  in  the  press  forward,  and  looked  up  at 
Matt,  an  expression  in  her  eyes  that  made  him 
long  to  thrust  his  broad  shoulders  between  her 
and  the  others.  "  I  can't  do  it,"  she  murmured. 
"I  —  I  think  it 's  disgusting." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Matt  at  once.  "  Don't  you  do 
it,  then.  I  '11  stand  by  you." 

However,  Demosthenes  had  joined  the  ring  as 
soon  as  he  noticed  its  recruits.  He  embraced  an 
opportunity,  and  no  sooner  had  he  been  selected 


296  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

for  the  post  of  honor  than  he  made  a  playful  run 
toward  Phe  Colton.  Those  around  her  fell  away 
to  the  right  and  the  left.  She  was  motionless, 
taken  by  surprise.  Demosthenes  threw  one  arm 
around  her. 

The  touch  was  an  awakening.  Matt,  as  well, 
started  forward. 

"  I  'm  not  playing,"  gasped  the  girl. 

"  Yes,  you  are.  Yes,  you  are,"  screamed  the 
others,  clapping  their  hands. 

"Yes,  you  are,  Phrebe,"  echoed  Demosthenes 
assuredly.  He  bent  his  head  to  hers.  She  gave 
Matt  a  glance  that  cast  herself  on  his  mercy. 

"  Stop,"  he  said  scarcely  above  a  whisper,  and 
yet  Demosthenes  drew  back.  "  Miss  Colton  told 
you  she  was  not  playing." 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  is,"  was  the  unabashed  retort. 
Mossy  threw  a  roguish  smile  at  the  onlookers. 
"  I  '11  take  my  chances  of  that,"  he  answered,  and 
they  applauded  his  spirit.  It  was  the  heedless 
gayety  of  young  people,  simply  bred,  knowing  one 
another  from  infancy,  retaining  much  of  the  in 
nocence  of  childhood.  To  Phe  Colton  and  Mathice 
Hager  an  embrace  from  Demosthenes  implied  far 
more  than  this. 

"  Stop,"  repeated  Matt  in  the  same  quiet  tone. 
"  Don't  you  see  —  how  she  feels  ?  " 

No.  Demosthenes  could  not  see.  He  laughed, 
without  other  reply. 

"Come,  Mossy,"  urged  his  brother,  "you're 
keeping  the  game.  Hurry." 

"  Green  grow  the  rushes,  O." 


THE  MAN  WITHOUT  A  COUNTRY   297 

Matt  was  in  truth  "  all  Hager."  He  laid  a  firm 
hand  on  Mossy's  shoulder.  "  I  forbid  you  to  do 
it,"  he  said. 

Demosthenes  gaped  at  him  dully.  "  You  forbid 
it  ?  By  what  right  ?  " 

"  By  the  best  right.     I  do  not  wish  it." 

He  turned  to  Phe.  She  alone  had  overheard 
him,  and  his  face  was  no  whiter  than  her  own. 
"  Come,"  he  added  aloud,  "  let  us  get  out  of  this 
crowd  somewhere  by  ourselves." 

They  passed  from  the  room  together,  followed 
by  countless  sly  comments.  And  Demosthenes 
played  no  more  that  night. 

The  stairs  were  deserted  for  the  sports,  growing 
more  riotous,  in  the  rooms  below.  Earlier  in  the 
evening  they  had  been  thronged  by  young  couples, 
but  now  Matt  took  his  choice  of  seats.  It  was  he 
who  led  and  she  who  followed  silently  while  he 
selected  a  place  isolated,  although  visible  from  the 
hallway,  at  the  landing  in  the  flight  of  steps. 

"  Will  you  sit  here  ?  "  he  asked,  indicating  the 
spot. 

She  obeyed  again,  still  without  a  word.  He 
stationed  himself  at  her  feet. 

"Well?" 

Phe's  head  was  averted. 

"  Please  look  at  me."  As  he  gazed  up  earnestly 
he  went  on  in  a  trembling  whisper.  "  Are  you 
very  angry  at  what  I  told  Mossy  Mix  ?  " 

"  I  should  be,"  she  replied,  viewing  her  inter 
laced  fingers  with  interest,  "  if  you  had  not  done 
it  to  help  me.  But  you  have  been  high-handed  to 
night  !  " 


298  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

"  That 's  so,"  he  acknowledged  gloomily.  "  I 
don't  see  how  it  was.  I  meant  to  be  so  humble ! 
Things  seemed  just  to  happen  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  somewhat  stiffly.  "  You  intended  to 
be  kind.  I  understand  that.  And  so  I  shall  not 
be  angry." 

He  leaned  his  elbow  on  the  stair  above  him  and 
his  head  upon  his  hand.  This  brought  his  face 
close  to  hers.  "  Phe  !  Are  you  going  to  live  up 
to  it  —  what  I  told  Mossy  Mix  ?  " 

"  How  absurd !  "     She  laughed  lightly. 

"  What  is  absurd  ?  That  I  should  claim  any 
right  to  you  ?  Yes,  I  admit  that."  He  straight 
ened  himself,  drawing  aloof.  "  It  is  absurd  in  me 
to  look  so  high." 

The  bitter  note  in  his  voice  went  to  her  heart  — 
not  a  very  hard  heart  ever,  nor  ever  hard  toward 
Matt  Hager.  "  I  mean  —  You  know  what  I 
mean." 

"  No,"  said  Mathice  in  a  tone  of  decision.  "  I 
have  n't  known  for  the  past  year  what  you  meant ; 
unless  it  was  the  one  thing  I  feared." 

"  And  what  was  that  ?  "  He  fancied  she  stooped 
toward  him  —  a  little. 

"  I  thought  —  I  was  driven  to  think  —  you  saw 
my  position  as  it  was  plain  to  me :  I,  an  Indian 
and  a  Downrenter,  whose  father  suffers  in  his 
stead." 

She  gave  a  breathless  cry.  He  continued  as  if 
he  had  not  heard,  "  I  did  n't  blame  you,  Phe." 

"  How  could  you  help  blaming  me  if  you  fancied 
I  was  — like  that?" 


THE  MAN  WITHOUT  A  COUNTRY        299 

"  It  is  the  truth.    I  am  an  object  for  contempt." 

Phe's  eyes  shone  brilliant  and  beautiful  as  she 
smiled  down  on  him.  "  You  are  an  object  for 
envy  and  malice  and  all  uncharitableness  —  what 
I  pray,  every  Sunday,  the  Lord  to  take  from  my 
soul.  Oh,  can't  you  see  ?  You  are  Squire  May- 
ham's  heir !  " 

Matt's  elbow  went  back  to  the  upper  step,  and 
his  head  to  his  hand.  "  You  foolish  girl !  "  said 
he  fondly.  "  So  that  was  it  ?  I  could  n't  believe 
Jemima." 

"  Have  you  been  talking  me  over  with  Jemima 
Lane?" 

"  Why,  Phe,  I  had  to  talk  to  somebody.  I  was 
desperate." 

Phe  smiled.    He  guessed  she  was  not  very  angry. 

"  I  asked  her  right  out  what  the  trouble  was.  I 
mean  if  it  was  —  as  I  thought." 

"  Don't  say  that  again." 

"  And  she  gave  me  the  first  hint  it  might  be 
something  else.  I  never  dreamed  of  the  money 
coming  between  us  —  a  little  thing  like  that." 

Phe  resented  the  implied  reproach.  "  It  may  be 
a  little  thing  to  own,"  she  replied ;  "  it  is  n't  a 
little  thing  to  want.  But  there  —  you  can't  under 
stand,  of  course.  We  shan't  say  another  word 
about  it." 

"  What  shall  we  say  ?  " 

Matt's  smile  would  have  been  supremely  silly  to 
a  third  person.  There  was  no  third  person,  and 
to  Phe  it  was  charming.  She  returned  the  look. 
"  Oh,  what  you  please." 


300  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

"  You  know  what  I  please,  —  to  say  how  much 
I  love  you." 

The  corners  of  her  mouth  twitched.  "  You  cer 
tainly  have  n't  said  that.  You  've  only  talked  about 
why  you  have  n't." 

"Oh,  Phe!" 

"  And  you  have  n't  asked,"  studying  her  folded 
hands  once  more,  "  whether  I  cared  a  straw  for 
you.  You  do  take  things  for  granted !  " 

"  Dear  me,"  sighed  Matt,  although  not  as  if  he 
were  particularly  distressed,  "  and  I  set  out  to  be 
so  meek !  " 

"  Pooh,  you  can't  be  meek,"  Phe  said. 

It  was  obviously  not  in  the  least  the  programme 
Jemima  painstakingly  laid  out.  Yet  it  had  served 
its  purpose,  and  neither  Matt  nor  Phe  ever  regret 
ted  his  action.  He  was  "  all  Hager,"  but  it  had 
been  proved  that  the  Hager  disposition  could  be 
moulded  by  the  brute  force  of  circumstances. 
Mathice  was  of  the  stuff  from  which  tyrants  are 
made.  The  training  of  his  boyhood,  under  an 
other's  tyranny,  the  fact  that  his  chance  came  to 
him  when  and  how  he  met  it,  the  sunshine  of  his 
later  days,  the  influence  of  his  wife,  —  these  formed 
in  him  that  finest  of  characters,  a  fully  controlled 
and  fully  developed  will. 

He  had  seen  troublous  times,  and  he  was  not  to 
outlive  their  influence.  Peace  was  apparently  re 
stored.  There  were  no  more  disturbances  between 
landlords  and  tenants,  the  latter  of  whom  had  re 
ceived,  or  were  to  receive  through  future  legisla 
tion,  the  most  of  their  demands.  And  still  the  old 


THE  MAN  WITHOUT  A  COUNTRY   301 

leaven  was  working  underneath  the  amicable  settle 
ment. 

Twenty  years  after  the  day  of  Hager's  sale  De 
mosthenes  Mix  was  a  candidate  for  Congressman. 
He  had  risen  in  that  time  to  the  front  rank  in  State 
politics.  He  was  recognized  as  an  honest  and 
clever  exponent  of  party  principles.  The  Mix 
family  went  wild  with  pride  over  his  nomination. 
There  was  a  large  vote  cast,  the  largest  ever  polled 
outside  what  is  called  "  a  presidential  year."  Ja 
cob  Hager,  Nicelas  Mann,  and  Storm  Zielle  had 
not  been  restored  to  citizenship.  They  were  among 
the  few  men  who  failed  to  appear  at  the  polls  on 
that  third  of  November. 

But  Demosthenes  was  defeated.  More  than 
that,  it  was  his  own  county  which  brought  about 
his  rival's  election.  It  was  in  Farley  that  there 
was  the  heaviest  vote  for  his  opponent. 

"  I  am  completely  at  a  loss  to  understand  it," 
he  said  in  talking  it  over  at  the  Mayham  place, 
where  he  was  dining  ;  "  I  supposed  I  was  personally 
popular.  I  represent  the  political  preferences  of 
a  majority  of  our  voters.  It  was  not  money  that 
did  it.  Between  you  and  me,  Mathice,  our  side 
had  twice  the  amount  they  put  up.  There  was 
some  mysterious  influence  at  work.  It  baffles 
me." 

Matt  looked  at  his  wife.     He  often  did. 

"  Shall  I  tell  him  ?  "  his  eyes  inquired. 

She  nodded. 

"  See  here,  Mossy,"  he  began,  leaning  forward 
in  his  armchair.  "  I  might  as  well  be  frank  with 


302  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

you.  It  's  no  kindness  to  let  it  go.  This  was  n't 
from  any  fault  of  yours.  It 's  the  old  Anti-rent 
trouble." 

Demosthenes  stared  his  incredulity.  "  What 
had  I  to  do  with  that  ?  " 

"Nothing  at  all.  But  you  happened  to  be  a 
cousin  of  Lawyer  Van  Zandt." 

"  Good  heavens,  man,"  cried  the  other,  "  you 
don't  mean  they  'd  bring  that  up  against  me  ?  " 

"  I  mean  they  did." 

"  I  can't  believe  it,"  drawing  a  deep  breath. 

"  You  should  know  Farley  at  least  as  well  as  I 
do.  That 's  Farley." 

Demosthenes  rose  to  his  feet,  still  shaking  his 
head.  "  And  yet  I  cannot  credit  it." 

He  was  wagging  his  large  head  as  he  strode 
down  the  terrace  steps.  That  vanity  had  received 
many  a  blow  in  its  day,  but  it  rose,  always  fresh, 
to  meet  each  new  surprise.  "  I  can't  credit  it,"  he 
repeated. 

Jacob  Hager  sat  on  a  bench  in  the  summer-house, 
sunning  himself  luxuriously.  Crazy  Dan,  crouch 
ing  near  him  on  the  threshold,  was  shaping  an  ar 
row  destined  for  Matt's  youngest  boy. 

" '  I  the  Lord  have  called  thee,  to  bring  out  the 
prisoners  from  the  prison,  and  them  that  sit  in 
darkness  out  of  the  prison  house.'  Shall  I  say  it 
again,  old  Jacob  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  assented  the  listener.  "  I  like  to  hear 
it." 

Then  he  glanced  up  and  saw  their  guest  prepar 
ing  to  depart.  "  Oh,  Mossy,"  he  called,  and  strug- 


THE  MAN  WITHOUT  A  COUNTRY        303 
gled  to  his  feeL     "  See  here,  I  'd  like  to  speak  to 

you." 

"Very  well,"  was  the  good-natured  reply. 
"What  is  it?" 

"  Would  ye  mind  steppin'  out  o'  earshot  ?  I 
don't  want  Crazy  Dan  should  hear." 

"  Well  —  here,  then.     What  is  it  ?  " 

Jacob  put  out  two  gnarled  hands  and  caught  the 
lapel  of  Demosthenes'  coat.  His  tone  fell  to  a 
wheezing  murmur.  "  I  thought  I  'd  tell  ye  'bout 
that  'lection.  I  didn't  vote  ag'in  ye." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,  Mr.  Hager.  That 's  all 
right." 

There  was  a  purple  flush  on  the  wrinkled  cheeks. 
The  voice  sank  still  lower.  "  I  can't  vote." 

"  Yes,  I  understand,  Mr.  Hager.  Don't  say  any 
more  about  it." 

"  'T  was  too  bad  if  your  heart  was  set  on  goin' 
to  Congress.  I  'm  sorry.  But  ye  know  how  folks 
are.  They  don't  forgit.  An'  I  wan't  a  mite  to 
blame.  I  did  n't  vote  ag'in  ye." 

"  I  see.     I  understand." 

"  I  could  n't,"  said  Jacob.     "  I  can't  vote." 

There  was  a  little  pause.  "  Father  !  "  called  a 
clear  voice.  "  Father  !  " 

A  wintry  smile  crossed  the  old  man's  lips.  He 
raised  his  head  with  a  certain  air  of  pride. 

"  That 's  Matt's  wife,  Phrebe." 

"Yes." 

"  She  's  a  good  woman.  I  tell  ye,  she  's  good 
to  me  an'  mother.  An'  she  's  all-fired  han'some, 
too." 


304  A  DOWNRENTER'S  SON 

"  Yes,"  said  Demosthenes  again. 

"  Matt 's  done  well.  He  's  done  well  all  around  : 
his  wife,  an'  his  prop'ty,  an'  his  childern  —  every 
thing  's  seemed  to  prosper.  But  then  —  yes, 
Phoebe,  I  'm  comin'  in  a  minute  —  but  then,  ye 
see,  he  deserves  it." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Demosthenes. 

"  He  's  been  a  good  man  in  his  fam'ly,  an'  he 's 
been  a  good  boy  to  us.  They  ain't  nothin'  he  won't 
do  for  us.  They  ain't  nothin'  he  hain't  done. 
They  're  good  childern,  him  an'  Gitty,  an'  they 
deserve  their  luck." 

"  Well,  I  think,  Mr.  Hager,"  Demosthenes  ob 
served  cheerily,  "  that  you  're  pretty  well  off  your 
self.  You  're  looked  after  and  tended  and  cared 
for,  and  proud  of  your  son  and  daughter.  You 
have  a  great  deal  to  be  thankful  for,  I  'm  sure." 

"  So  I  hev,"  old  Jacob  responded  ;  "  so  I  hev. 
An'  I  guess  you  don't  know  how  much.  I  ought 
'o  be  thankful  an'  glad  I  'm  free  an'  independent, 
an'  got  my  home  an'  frien's.  'T  ain't  anything  to 
fret  me,  is  it,  jus'  because  they  won't  let  me 
vote?" 

"  No,  no,"  Demosthenes  assured  him.  "  That 's 
nothing,  nothing  at  all." 

"  No,  o'  course  not,"  with  a  wistful  glance  into 
the  other's  face.  "  O'  course  it  ain't.  I  don't 
care.  An'  the  childern  are  reel  good." 

"  Father  !  "  called  Phoebe.     "  Father  !  " 


Electrotyped  and  printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &*  Co, 
Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 


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